Grounded by Fear
by Rigato Caravel
Summary: Butters has always led a life in the shadow of his father. Only one other person sees the darkness. Butters/Curly Goth
1. Stealing Bread

Hey, look everyone!

A new story. This one will have some pretty heavy themes in it. I know I touched on prostitution, burglary and sex in A Knife to the Back, but be warned. This will have child abuse, child rape, beatings, clips trips chains whips…you know the routine. If you're not old enough or you can't handle the themes, don't fucking read it.

All characters belong to Matt and Trey, I'm just borrowing them.

____

"Loo loo loo, I got some apples, loo loo loo, you got some too…" Butters sang his favourite childhood song softly. "Loo loo loo, let's make some applesauce take off our clothes and loo loo loo." He flicked his blond bangs out of his eyes. His hair had grown somewhat long, tickling the skin a few inches down from his ears. It was nearly down to his collarbone, sticking out every which way like it had since he was small.

Math homework wasn't so hard. He scribbled down the answers easily, his teeth idly capturing his soft, pouty lower lip and chewing it. He was lucky no one was home to hear him. He was always annoying his parents with his silly songs and stupid face…it was no wonder they put a bag on his head, acting like that. He needed to learn to behave himself.

He finished the last few problems and closed the book. Now he could play Hello Kitty Island Adventures! The game had advanced so far since he was eight. Seven years later he couldn't wait to finish the exciting conclusion to the series. Poor Hello Kitty…always getting into trouble and losing all her friends.

Butters turned on his computer, listening for his father. He didn't like it when Butters messed with the computer when he could be doing homework. He nervously brought his knuckles together a few times, then messed with the hem of his tightly fitting Hello Kitty shirt. His mom didn't mind buying girly clothes for him…she'd always said she wanted a girl anyway. Butters just felt more comfortable like this.

He yelped when the boot-up jingle exploded from the speakers. "Oh hamburgers!" Butters pounded the mute key until the tone died away, looking at his door.

"Butters!" Came the muffled yell from downstairs. "You better not be playing that faggy little game or you're grounded, young man!"

"I-I'm not dad! I-I'm lookin' up stuff for history homework." Butters yelled meekly back, praying his father wouldn't investigate. He didn't hear anything else out of the man, so he assumed he was safe for the moment.

He could relax.

Butters crossed one skinny, jeaned leg over the other and eagerly pressed the icon for Hello Kitty Island Adventures, 30th edition. He smiled to himself. One of the few things that gave him happiness in this world was the little white kitten. She lived in such a perfect world. No one to tell her what to do or keep her in her room for a week without supper. She could just hang out with her friends all day long and do fun things like bake cupcakes.

Butters' stomach growled and he looked down at it. "Y-you be quiet now." He said in as stern a voice as he could muster, poking the bony skin. "Dad says we don't get nothin' to eat cause we waste money."

Come to think of it, when was the last time he'd eaten? He'd had an apple for lunch yesterday, and water the rest of the day. Anything else? He didn't think so. The apples were at least provided by the school so he didn't strain the food budget.

"Come on now we've been doin' all right so far. Four apples and a sandwich this week." He said proudly to his stomach, then focused on the happy, sparkling menu screen before him. He could forget school like this…forget the fact that Eric Cartman shoved him in dumpsters or kids made fun of the way he dressed. He could be himself with the computer.

"Butters! Get down here right now!"

Butters cringed and hurriedly shut down the computer. What had he done now? He pulled a plain black hoodie from his bed over his head to cover the shirt and headed downstairs, grinding his knuckles together.

"Yes sir?" he asked nervously.

His father glared at him from his armchair, lifting up a familiar clipboard with a piece of paper on it. "Butters. Do you want to explain to me why there are two pieces of bread missing from this week's pantry check?" he snarled, shaking the clipboard. Butters' blood ran cold.

"Aw jeez…" he muttered under his breath.

"What the fuck did you say, young man? Want to explain where it went? I don't suppose the damn cat ate it, hm?" Mr. Stotch slammed the clipboard down on the coffee table. Butters cringed.

_Oh God Butters what were you thinking?! Hamburgers…he looks real mad._

Mr. Stotch was quivering slightly, his eyes looking at Butters furiously.

"I…I wanted a sandwich. M-mom said it was okay…" Butters trailed off.

"Oh so if Linda says its ok, then that's just fine! Do you want to see your family starve Butters?! Do you?!" Mr. Stotch shouted.

"N-no sir!" Butters said. "I won't eat nothin' more from the pantry, sir."

"Now don't you dare make me out to be the bad parent, Butters! Don't you fucking dare!" Mr. Stotch growled. "Go outside and play until you learn your lesson about stealing food from your family! You don't work! What makes you think your miserable, ugly face deserves any food that I earn?! I bring home the money for the food budget, Butters, and when you waste it on these frivolous snacks then everyone suffers!" Mr. Stotch rose and pointed to the back door near the kitchen.

"Yes, sir." Butters hung his head and headed out of the back door, his stomach snarling longingly at the fridge. He sat on the back porch while his body moaned at him, the thought of the leftover grilled cheese in the fridge was enough to make him salivate.

"N-now you stop that!" Butters poked his stomach again. "No work, no food." He admonished, then sighed and pulled his hood up over his head. The hoodie was a few sizes too big for him, but it was perfect for hiding. He was glad his aunt had no idea how much he actually weighed. She probably thought he weighed something more like Stan or Kyle, who outweighed him by a good thirty pounds.

But then again, they took food away from their parents.

"Hey, Butters. We're going over to Stark's Pond to skate. Wanna come?"

Butters looked up to see Clyde leaning on his fence, a gaggle of the girls around him carrying their skates. Butters rubbed the back of his neck. Ever since the girls had made that list, Clyde thought he was the best looking thing on the planet. He got all the girls to follow him like ducks in a row.

"The girls want you to come." Clyde corrected when he saw the look on Butters' face.

"I can't, Clyde. I was bein' bad again." Butters said, fiddling with his hands.

Clyde gave him a flash of that smile…the thousand watt one that made all the girls sigh collectively. "C'mon Butters. The rest of the guys are there and you're always in that fucking house. You need to get out and socialize, dude."

Butters shook his head emphatically. "I can't, Clyde! My dad would be so angry."

"We're teenagers, this is what we do. Hop your skinny, girly ass over that fence and come on. One of the girls will lend you her skates, you've got tiny feet anyway." Clyde said.

Butters looked back at the house, then at Clyde. Clyde tossed his head, indicating he should jump over the old wood slat fence.

Butters got up from his seat, pulling his hood down and making a quick jump for it over the barrier. He slipped and landed on his rear, wincing. "Ow…" he mumbled. "Fellas, you better not get me into big trouble with my dad."

"I'll just tell him you looked sad so we took you skating to cheer you up." Bebe said, smiling and handing him her skates. "Here, use mine. Size nine women's…those should fit you. You're like a six in men's anyway, right?"

Butters blushed and nodded. He'd gone shoe-shopping with Bebe…well, he was window shopping because he didn't work. She did the shopping. But she still made him try on shoes. He was surprised she remembered his size.

"Alright, well the light's fading! Let's get over there." Clyde smirked, striding down the sidewalk.

Butters smiled nervously. He couldn't help but think this was going to be worth it.


	2. Two Birds of Two Feathers

Butters is so cute. I've always loved his innocent demeanor. I hope I'm playing it off well.

Rig

____

Butters glided along the surface of Stark's Pond, smiling to himself as the cold wind whipped its hands across his face, raking harsh nails through his hair and throwing his hood back. His eyes sparkled happily, hands clasped behind him as he smoothly guided Bebe's skates through the ice. The blades drew lines behind him, as if he were drawing.

He was glad for the company of Clyde and the girls. They ignored him for the most part…as always, he was invited out of pity. Butters didn't mind that so much. They got him out of his home, and that was all that mattered. The fellas never hung out with him much anymore…the girls either flocked to him to perform their rudimentary skills at makeup or to have someone to listen to their boy troubles.

In essence, he was with them yet alone with his thoughts. "Sure is different than sittin' on the porch." He said to himself quietly. For one, he was distracted from the desperate pleading of his digestive system by the cold comforts of the wind and ice.

He turned his head when he saw a few figures sitting in the snow. Bebe and Wendy sat together, talking animatedly, though it was clear Bebe wanted to skate by the way she kept looking at the others having fun. Butters felt a little pang of guilt. He'd taken her skates away.

The other stood out like a red mark on a newspaper, a lanky figure similar to Butters' own body type. He was swathed in a black trench coat that reached to his ankles, sprawled underneath his figure. Butters thought for a moment it looked a bit like a picnic blanket. He had long, curly black hair that hung partially over his face, a somewhat large nose, and what looked like soot smeared around his eyes.

He swung around to the edge of the pond and sat down in the snow next to Bebe, smiling at her. "I'm sorry Bebe. I got a little caught up. Here. Bet you're glad my feet don't get sweaty or nothing, huh?" he looked over at her as he undid the laces. She smiled back.

"Thanks Butters." She took the skates from him when he slid them off his small feet and grabbed his shoes. She'd been kind enough to watch them for him, he supposed he could do the same for her.

Wendy got up and slid off her shoes, putting on her skates and gratefully gliding out onto the ice with her best friend.

Butters was alone with the other boy for company.

Better make the best out of the situation…or else he might start thinking about the horrible trouble he was going to be in with his parents. He rose up and put on his baby blue Converse, walking over to sit next to the other boy. He could smell cigarette smoke, thick and acidic with the faint scent of cloves interwoven in it.

"Hi!" Butters smiled. There wasn't a response.

Butters tilted his head and peered closer at the other boy. He could hear faint sounds of heavy drum riffing and a man screaming in some foreign language. The black ear buds were practically invisible with all the black the boy was wearing, and could have easily been mistaken for the quarter-sized black plugs in his ear-holes.

Butters wanted to look at them more closely. Wasn't that the darndest thing, sticking big cylinders of plastic in your ears? Weren't earrings supposed to be made of wire?

The goth turned his head and narrowed his green eyes. He slowly lifted a delicate, white-skinned hand and pulled one of the ear buds out of his ears. "What the hell are you staring at, Lady GaGa?" he growled smokily.

Butters blushed and sat back. "I-I was with Clyde skatin' over there. I was wondering what the things in your ears were." He pointed at the other boy's earlobes.

The goth's hostile expression faded into an incredulous one. "Are you serious? You Justin and Brittney wannabes don't even know what gauges are? Fags." He said in his gravelly voice, sticking the cigarette back in his mouth. He made a move to put the misplaced ear bud back in.

"W-well I ain't seen nothin' like that before. My mom's got wire earrings. How'd you get yours that big?" Butters knew he was asking too many questions. But if everyone was going to tell him he was annoying, he might as well take advantage of the expectation.

"You stretch the holes. It's painful, and it's long." The goth said shortly, looking Butters up and down. "You're that Leopold Stotch kid aren't you? The one they call Butters cause they think it's fucking funny?"

Butters nodded. "Aw, it's only a nickname. Even my dad calls me Butters, but I think it's cause it's easier to holler than Leopold. What's yours? I think I've seen you at school but you never said nothin' or talked to me." He said.

"Gage." The curly haired boy responded. "Look, kid, you dancing around vomiting rainbows and sunshine may be cute to some guys, but not me. Go away."

Butters blinked. "W-what?" he asked, his aqua eyes wide.

"I mean you're so happy you're literally giving me a tan with your teeth." Gage growled, narrowing his eyes again. Butters blinked cluelessly.

Gage leaned over to him, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and extinguishing it on the chest of Butters' hoodie. "Fuck. Off." He growled, his nose almost touching Butters'. Gage flicked the butt of the cigarette in Butters' face, stood up, jammed his ear bud back in his ear, and stalked over to a more secluded area.

Butters hurriedly brushed the cinders off his shirt, grateful for the extra layer of clothing. He'd just felt a slight warm sensation, nothing more. He frowned at the mark on his hoodie, holding out the cloth to examine it. "Hamburgers…he burned it." He said to himself, looking at Gage. He was walking quite a bit to get away from Butters.

____

Gage glared over at the skinny, short boy with the blond hair staring at him. "God." He muttered under his breath, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and selecting one. He lit it with a battered Bic lighter and took a deep drag. The Stotch boy was sitting in the snow, smiling softly and watching everyone else skate.

He was glad he was away from the sparkly little bastard. Gage turned up his music, listening to Finntroll growl in his ears. Gage hadn't seen Butters in quite a long time, come to think of it. Hanging out behind the school meant you saw everyone that came in and out of the building. Not to mention the boy was frighteningly skinny. Gage could have easily wrapped his hand around Butters' thigh and his fingers would have met.

"Great, now we have an anorexic Hello Kitty slut running around." He mumbled around the cigarette between his teeth. Someone like that couldn't possibly that happy…smiling at everyone and acting like every human being on the planet was his friend. There was something sad about those pretty, aqua eyes.

Something similar to him.

Of course, Butters probably didn't have the home life that Gage did. The kid had his parents poking in on him every few seconds. Gage had to listen to his parents argue, but at least it was from the privacy of his own room where he could smoke and ignore it.

It was tough being the only kind of a species here in South Park anyway. He was the only goth kid now that the kindergartner of their group had been assimilated into school life. He was a Banana Republic zombie like the rest of them now. Henrietta had moved to another school and was quite content to dominate the few goths there. The kid with the hair constantly in his eyes had overdosed in middle school.

Gage was completely alone. Goths were normally suited to this…they liked lording their sole position of 'freak' over normal children. It was an advantage in some ways, having people completely terrified of you just by hanging out in the back of the school and smoking. But listening to music or reading poetry wasn't the same without the other three.

Butters seemed similar. He didn't fit in with the guys, no matter how well he got along with the girls there was still the gender problem to think of, and there were no other little fairies running around after Big Gay Al left for Los Angeles. Butters was just as alone as he was.

Somehow, this was a bit more comforting than it should have been.


	3. Mr Bear and Mr Grumpy

Risashootingstar- I honestly didn't know that this crack pairing existed.

Anon- What the hell does crack pairing mean? That phrase has raised a few question marks above my head. Thanks for the review!

Cyanide13 – Thank you so much for reading A Knife to the Back! That one's going to wrap up in the next 10 or so chapters, and then this one will be my main, but for now it's going to update rather slow.

Shackles and Pain- Thank you very much!

HyperbeamGO- Sorry I can't update this one as much. You're free to read A Knife to the Back if you need something distracting XD

Oh, just to tell you guys that haven't read A Knife to the Back…you might want to go check it out. This story will reference some of the things that happened to Butters in that story.

All Characters belong to Matt and Trey, I'm just borrowing them.

_____

Butters slunk in the house, looking down. His heart pounded in his ears. He was dead. He could feel it in his bones. That terrible sort of fear that only the devil and his father could put into him. He straightened his back, messing with his black hoodie. He couldn't let his father know he'd been out. He made for the back door, intending on sitting on the back steps just as if he had never even left.

"Butters!" Came the shout just as his fingers landed on the knob. He flinched visibly, chewing his lip as if he wanted to shred his bottom jaw into lumps of red flesh. "Butters in my study right now!" His father bellowed again.

Butters slowly walked into the study, his eyes cast toward the floor. His father was seated in his usual chair, the smell of pipe smoke hung in the air. "Come here Butters." His father growled darkly, and Butters shuffled his feet on the carpet, getting closer and closer to his father.

He felt a hand fold around his upper arm, a vice tightening around his very bone and yanking him down into his lap. "You disobeyed me, Butters." Mr. Stotch snarled in Butters' face, not even paying attention to the way his fingers met behind Butters' arm. "There are punishments." He hissed. Butters could smell the tang of alcohol mixing with the smoke on his breath.

"Linda may have let you run around and play with your friends but I am not standing for insubordination. Now go do your homework. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the night. And you can forget about dinner." Mr. Stotch hissed, releasing his son. Butters knew better than to rub the pain he felt blossoming on his arm. His dad would do worse.

"Yes, Sir." Butters said softly. "I-Is it okay if I do my homework outside?"

"Do whatever you want, just as long as you're fucking doing it." Mr. Stotch gestured angrily, and Butters beat a hasty retreat. He ran up to his room and gathered up his books. He bit his lip and looked at at the beat up old teddy bear on his bed. The fur had been flattened down in places from Butters rubbing the soft texture against his face when he felt upset, and there were rips in several places where the stuffing poked out occasionally. Butters grabbed Mr. Bear by the arm and walked slowly down the stairs. His dad didn't appreciate him stampeding everywhere.

He opened the door just as slowly, rotating the knob achingly until he heard the bolt slide back and the wood part from the frame. He slid outside and shut it. "Don't slam the fucking door!" His father shouted from somewhere deep inside the house. Butters winced.

"I just can't stop bein' bad." He sat down on the steps, combing through his math homework. He was pleased to see there were no mistakes, according to the thing in the back of the book that told you all the answers. Butters was almost as smart as Kyle when it came to things like this…there was no reason for mistakes. Mistakes got you grounded. He opened his history textbook and sighed. He'd done that too. Chemistry would be done if his lab partner didn't insist on blowing everything up. Eric knew so much about chemistry but he wasn't interested unless they were making compounds that could kill people.

Butters rubbed his neck. He didn't eat brownies anymore because of Eric Cartman. Course, Eric was happy now. He had Kyle to keep him from baking arsenic into things at school bake sales. Butters had caught them making out in the bathroom at school once.

He sighed. At least Kyle was cute and Eric was handsome. He was ugly and always making stupid faces at people. Butters laid the chemistry book aside and pulled Mr. Bear into his arms. "I wish I had a boyfriend." He muttered into the nut-brown fur pressed against his cheek. "Oh, darn." He bit his lip and rubbed his blue lip gloss off of Mr. Bear's fur. "Sorry." He apologized to the little animal's broken string smile.

"Hey dude."

Butters lifted his head to see the bulky form of Eric Cartman standing in his walkway, hands in the pockets of his black jeans and a cigarette between his lips. The violent visage of some incomprehensible metal band stretched across his chest. "Are you holding a fucking teddy bear? You are such a fag, Butters." He smirked.

"Y-you can't judge, Eric. You got a stuffed frog in your room you talk to all the time." Butters pointed out, not loosening his embrace on the teddy bear.

"Yeah well that's different. Look, I need your help with something." Eric dropped the cigarette to Butter's walkway and ground it under his foot.

"D-don't!" Butters stood up, looking at the butt. Eric raised an eyebrow.

"It's just a cigarette butt…Jesus. Come on. We have work to do and not a lot of time to do it." Eric said, gesturing impatiently.

"Eric I can't. I'm doin' my homework and my dad's gonna be sore at me if he opens the door and sees I've gone away with you." Butters said.

"Butters you have to be a man sometimes. Come on." Cartman growled impatiently. Butters sighed and tucked into the large front pocket of his hoodie, approaching Cartman. The well-fed boy looked him up and down. "Ok, beanpole." He sneered, guiding them into the street. "I need to do something. Kyle's driving me fucking insane. He threw out all my distilling equipment and started flipping shit when he saw all the stuff in my basement. I mean God, one batch of meth and your boyfriend goes fucking ballistic. God damn Jew."

"Eric, are you takin' drugs? Cause my dad says-"

"I'm not taking fucking drugs, Butters. I'm not retarded." Cartman growled beside him, giving Butters a nasty look. "I was selling it. The batch he threw out was the best one yet. You could see your hand behind it. Perfect ice."

Butters tilted his head as Cartman spoke. Ice? What in tarnation was Cartman talking about?

The larger boy paused on their walk and picked up something off the side of the road, shaking the snow off of it. It was a two by four, relatively clean, with a few nails pounded into the end of it. "This will do nicely." He said. "I knew if I came to your door with this thing your dad would flip out, so I put it here." He explained when he saw Butters' inquisitive look.

"Eric?"

"Yeah, what?" Eric rested the weapon on his shoulder.

"You ain't gonna hit me or nothin' are you?" Butters ground his knuckles together as Cartman went silent for a moment, as if considering it.

"No point. You stopped being fun to beat up a long time ago." Cartman said with a shrug. "Nah, we're going after much more…emo fare tonight Butters."

____________

Gage turned Till Lindermann's voice up, rolling his eyes. "God, do they ever shut up…" he muttered, scribbling down another passage in his journal. He sat in a tree outside his yard, adding another stanza to the song he was writing. His Zune was bulky and heavy in his pocket…he hated it. Mainstream piece of shit. At least it wasn't a damn iPod or he would have killed himself right then and there.

He pulled his jacket tighter against his body. The sun was going down. Soon he wouldn't have enough light to write by. All too soon, the light faded and he was forced to slide the pen and notepad back inside the large pockets of his tripp pants. The gigantic pant legs and pockets of the pants were unique…always black with chains and studs lining his thighs.

They weren't popular like the fucking drainpipe jeans the emos had stolen from the goths. He heard a muffled yell through the music and yanked out one of his earbuds.

"Hey, Michael Jackson! I'm fucking talking to you! Get down here."

"E-Eric, he don't look anything like Mr. Jackson. Be nice."

Gag frowned. He recognized that voice. He leaned over to look at two familiar faces at the base of the tree. The Hello Kitty slut from earlier, and the last person on earth he wanted to see. The fat kid. "Fuck off skinhead. I'm not interested in you or the sparkly twit down there." Gage muttered, shifting his boots on the branches.

"I just want to talk to you. If you can't be reasonable and come down from there…" Cartman said, weighing a large slab of wood from hand to hand. Gage eyed it.

"Right. What the heck do you think I am, stupid? If I come down then you're going to hit me with that big freaking piece of wood you're holding." He said, rolling his eyes and resting back against the branches. "Go beat up a black guy and leave me alone, you fat redneck."

"E-eric you weren't gonna hit him with that were you?" Butters mumbled.

"Hey, sparkletits. Go home." Gage snapped down at Butters. "The fat kid is bad news."

"I'm not fat, I'm big boned! Look, if you're not coming down then I'm going to have to smoke you out." Cartman growled, taking out his lighter and lifting the flame to one of the low-hanging branches. It lit and began to smoke.

Gage rolled his eyes again and lifted his foot, slamming it down on the branches under his feet. Snow showered down on the two, snuffing out the flame easily. "Oh God. The heat. It's burning me alive. Ow." Gage sneered sarcastically. "I'm so freaking shocked."

Cartman snarled and slammed the board into the trunk of the tree. It lodged and he yanked it out with a grunt.

"Nice miss." Gage said.

"I'll get you later you little gypsy piece of shit." Cartman snarled up at the goth, clawing snow out of his hair. He stomped off, leaving Butters to shake snow off of himself.

"I'm sorry, Gage." Butters said softly, only to have more snow cascade down on his head again.

"Get off my freakin' lawn."

"N-now you stop that! I just want to talk to you, and you're just bein' mean." Butters said, sneezing loudly. "Why're you up there anyhow?"

"I came up here to be alone and freaking write." Gage growled.

"Whatcha writin'?" Butters asked as Gage moved to put in his earbud again. The goth sighed and leaned his curly black hair against the tree trunk.

"Look, if you want to talk let's go somewhere quiet. I want a cup of coffee and the Village Inn is right down the road." Gage grumbled, climbing awkwardly down to the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets, pulling out a pack of black cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth and lit it, letting clove smoke curl up into the night air. Butters smiled and nodded, starting off down the road.

Gage saw him pull out a soft brown object and hug it to his chest. "What the heck is that?" he gestured toward it with his cigarette.

Butters smiled and lifted the stuffed bear up by the ragged armpits. "This is Mr. Bear." He said cheerfully.

"This is going to be a fucking interesting night." Gage grumbled, sticking his earbuds back in and turning up the volume as they walked.


	4. Shrimp and Bacon Pizza

Crimsonwaterfall892 – Aww thank you very much.

Risashootingstar- I have a stuffed bear too I've had since I was little. Oh, Butters father will get progressively worse. Domestic violence doesn't happen all at once, it's a downwards spiral that comes forth gradually.

Ok, there is an issue with in which it is not letting authors upload chapters. So, I am trying an experiment cutting the words out from the uploaded CH 3 and pasting the CH 4 information in, then uploading it as CH 4...lets see if this works.

All characters belong to Matt and Trey, I'm just borrowing them.

____

Gage slid into a booth, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray provided by the Village Inn restaurant. Butters sat next to him, putting on the table. "Are you sure you wanna drink coffee here? There's a Starbucks like five minutes away and they serve all sorts of neat drinks." Butters said nervously, glancing around at the truckers and men fresh off their late-night shifts. Gage gave him a sour look.

"Starbucks is for you rich little hippy wannabes who want all that fancy shit in your drink. I'd rather pay a dollar for a cup here than six at your faggy Starfucks." Gage growled as the waitress came by and poured them both cups of coffee.

Butters took his in both hands and peered down at the steamy mug. "That smells awful." He muttered, but took a sip anyway. "Aw and it's all bitter." He set the ceramic mug down and hugged his teddy bear to his chest. Gage rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it.

"Of course it's bitter, dammit." Gage growled. "Our souls are bitter, like our writings." He added quietly, sticking his cigarette back in his mouth.

"I'm sorry about Eric. He's been real sore cause Kyle' bein' all tight-assed." Buttered mumbled, resting his chin on Mr. Bear's head.

"Eric Cartman has always been a douchebag." Gage said quietly. Butters hid his smile in Mr. Bear's fur. Gage let his face crack and smirked.

"E-eric's still my friend." Butters said softly. Gage glared at him, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Why do you tolerate him?" Gage asked, taking one of his ear buds out. Butters blinked at the loud, static noise of metal coming from the small device.

"How do you hear? I would think that nothin' would get through that noise." Butters said, pointing at the headphone. Gage rolled his eyes.

"That's the whole point. I got good at lip reading. It keeps you douchebag conformists out of my head." He tapped his ashes off into the tray on the table. "Why the hell do you keep following me, Stotch? At the pond you just sat next to me. No one does that."

"W-well…" Butters hid his face in Mr. Bear's fur. "I thought you needed a friend. I mean, all the other goths ran off."

Gage's slight smile disappeared and he sighed. "Dylan's dead." He said softly. "Look, you should go home, Stotch. I'll see you at school tomorrow." He nodded to the door. Butters followed his gaze and tightened his grip on Mr. Bear.

"Alone?" he asked.

"Yes, alone. Or are you one of those little Hollister whores who are afraid of walking home in the dark? The Cartman kid is the only crazy shit in this town." Gage said, smothering his cigarette amongst the corpses of its fellows in the ashtray. Butters gave him a nervous look. Gage sighed deeply through his nose. The Stotch kid was cute, he couldn't deny that.

His appearance was suspicious though. People might take Butters for a naive idiot that dressed in girly clothes and was taken advantage of easily. Gage saw right through it. Butters was dangerously underweight and pale. His hair was brittle and shed easily. He didn't look healthy. "Come on. We're going to my house. It's closer." Gage said, finishing his coffee and plunking down four one dollar bills on the table.

Butters looked even more terrified than before, if that was even possible.

"What about my parents? They'd be real sore at me if they saw I just ran to some feller's house without callin' 'em or nothin'." Butters said, standing up with Mr. Bear firmly in his arms.

"It's closer, and you don't need to call your parents or worry about mine." Gage said, grabbing Butters' arm and leading him out of the Village Inn. He wasn't surprised to see his thumb met his fingers behind Butters. He released him outside of the restaurant, beginning to walk back to his house in the dark. Surprisingly, he didn't hear the frantic footsteps of Butters running off. He did hear him following along behind him.

"Don't say anything in my house." Gage said when they came to his front door. His house was surprisingly trendy, with a bright red front door and a light brown paint job. The inside was cheerfully modern…even the domestic violence currently going on in the kitchen. He saw Butters cringe in the foyer at the shouting. "Don't worry about them." Gage said in his low, gravelly voice.

Butters grasped the edge of Gage's coat, following him up the stairs like a small child.

When Gage opened the door to his room, the vision of modern life shattered. The room was painted as deep a black as ever made by man. The windows were covered by deep gray cloth embroidered with Victorian print. Candles burned low on a dresser painted black, and when Butters looked down a huge skull rug laughed back at him. He stepped back from it momentarily, startled. Various posters enrobed what wasn't black on the walls. Marilyn Manson leered from one of the corners. Amon Amarth brandished axes at him. This place looked like a hell hole his father warned him about.

"Y-you aren't gonna sacrifice me to the devil are you?" Butters whimpered.

Gage sat down on the large black bed, smoothing the thick velvet comforter. "Jesus Christ kid. I'm not going to eat you." He growled. "Shut the door."

Butters obeyed, clutching Mr. Bear so tight he thought the stitches would burst. "Y-you're not?" he said softly. Gage chuckled and shook his head, patting the comforter and lighting another cigarette. Butters came forth and sat next to him, smiling nervously.

"So when was the last time you ate?" Gage said, resting his arm on his knee. Butters paled, turning nearly white. Gage grasped the ragged black hoodie and yanked it up, exposing Butters' pale skin and protruding ribs. Purple splattered across Butters' back, yellow blotched down near his skinny hip.

Butters grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it down, his pale face blushing. Gage pulled the edge of his mouth back, sighing. "That long, eh?" he said, letting Butters rearrange his clothing. "I guess your dad hits you. Mine used to hit me."

"I deserve it. I make stupid faces all the time and I don't do my chores or nothin', and I don't rearrange the pantry and I steal things." Butters stumbled over his words miserably, his eyes filling up with tears. "P-please don't tell no one."

Gage put his hand on Butters' cheek, pulling the sleeve of his long coat back. "Do you see this?" he lifted his forearm up. Yellow finger marks were branded into the skin across white knife scars. "I will not tell a soul, prep." He saw Butters' aqua eyes fall on the wounds.

"Okay." Butters said softly, putting a palm on Gage's forearm and pulling the cloth over it.

"You want some pot?" Gage asked, handing his cigarette to Butters and leaning over the bed. He yanked a box out from under the bed frame and set it on the bed. It was a simple wooden box, probably made by Gage himself, with a pentagram on the lid.

"Pot?" Butters blinked cluelessly at the cigarette in his hand.

______

An hour later Gage was regretting his decision. Butters giggled, crossing his legs on the bed and laying back. "Why's everything so black?" he giggled. "You ain't at a funeral."

Gage rolled his eyes. "Give me the joint back. I forgot you fucking preps don't handle marijuana well." He held out a hand but Butters turned away, taking another deep drag off the joint. He sputtered and coughed over the smoke and Gage deftly plucked the joint away. "You've had enough."

Butters giggled and sat up, awkwardly grasping for it. Gage held it away with a smirk. Like it or not, the pot was getting to him too. He took a drag off of it himself and was about to exhale the smoke when he felt something soft on his lips.

Butters was kissing him. He was so surprised he exhaled into the other boy's mouth, feeling Butters smile against him. After a few moments Butters pulled back and blew the smoke into the air. "I gotcha!" he giggled. Gage stared, open-mouthed, and then took in another breath of the herb. As expected, Butters awkwardly pressed lips to Gage's again and noisily sucked away the smoke. "You're too slow." He snickered against Gage's face and pulled away to rummage through Gage's music CDs. "I'm hungry." Butters mumbled. "I want some pizza." He shot up with a smile on his face.

Gage's brain was still trying to process the fact that Butters had kissed him. Twice. He wiped blue lip gloss off his lips and sat up. "I guess we can order." he muttered, laying the joint on an ashtray. Butters leaned over him and snatched it up, putting it in his mouth.

Gage slid off the bed and picked up his cell phone from the black dresser, giving into the pleasurable buzz starting in his chest. He dialed the number of a local Round Table and sighed into the phone. "I'd like to order a medium…" he looked over at Butters, giggling at his posters. "…large pizza."

"Bacon and shrimp!" Butters shouted suddenly from the bed, an intense look on his face and the joint hanging off his lips.

"Bacon and shrimp. No, what the hell do you think this is, some college party? We don't want any beer. Jesus." Gage rolled his eyes. "Fine, fag. Be here in fifteen minutes." He clicked off the phone and returned to the bed.

Butters smiled and hugged Gage around his waist when he sat. "I love you. Y-you got me pizza." He smiled and laid his head in Gage's lap.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Gage said as soon as he felt the weight rest on his groin.

"Naw, shrimp is good with bacon." Butters said, closing his large, beautiful eyes and nuzzling into the warmth.

Gage looked down with a raised eyebrow. "I guess we'll see." He said.

He ended up gently shifting Butters off his lap when the doorbell rang, grabbing his chain wallet. Butters lay back, smoking the rest of the joint lazily. Gage pulled out twenty dollars for the pizza boy, taking the box and heading back up to his room. He was barely through the black door when Butters yanked the box from his fingers, joint a mere stub in his teeth, and ran back to the bed.

"You're welcome." Gage smirked as the boy finished off the joint with a deep breath and began wolfing down pieces of pizza. Gage laughed and lifted his box from the comforter, closing the lid and sitting down next to Butters. He took a piece from the box, eyeing the pieces of cocktail shrimp and bacon bits stuck into the cheese before taking a bite. "You've got the weirdest taste." He muttered at Butters, who had his cheeks stuffed full.

Butters looked up, a string of cheese stretching from his mouth to the decimated piece of pizza he held in his greasy, thin fingers. "I like it." He mumbled around the mass of food.

Gage broke the string deftly with an index finger. "Yeah, I figured you would." He muttered, a smirk teasing his lips.


	5. Virgin Ears

Apple- Thank YOU for reviewing! It did have potential to be really sad, and the situation they're both in still is. But victims of abuse do sometimes bond together like this.

RisaShootingStar- Thank you very much! Your comment made me blush. I didn't think I was doing that well XD

LoveIsaJokeWithNoPunchline- Whew, your username took me a second. I must admit that I got the pizza from a brilliant brainstorm me and my fiancé had while totally baked.

____________

Gage woke up to the sound of his alarm clock blasting Corpsegrinder in his ear. He frowned and grasped for it in the still-hazy room, turning the roaring creatures off before they damaged his eardrums. Butters was tucked up against him under the sheets, head on Gage's stomach with his thumb firmly jammed in his mouth and Mr. Bear under one arm. Gage rolled his eyes and ruffled Butters' thin, brittle hair. The other boy had taken off his shirt and hoodie sometime during the night, and Gage was slightly pleased to see that the healing bruises were burgeoned by a full stomach.

Butter also apparently went deaf when asleep…the metal that had temporarily shattered the silence of the room hadn't made him so much as twitch.

"I'm surprised you didn't get sick." He muttered, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting one. Fuck school. It was nice lying in bed like this, with a cute if naïve blond nuzzled up against him. His comforter was all mussed from Butters burrowing down into the covers. Gage kicked off his boots, not surprised to see he'd slept with his clothes on. He lazily opened the lid of the pizza box. Empty. Butters had consumed the entire damned thing…he'd only had one or two pieces.

"You bottomless pit." He kissed the top of the other boy's head, letting him sleep peacefully while he smoked. The room stank of pot and pizza, and if there was anything Gage disliked it was feeling grungy. He put his cigarette aside and yanked off his shirt, displacing Butters' head for only a minute. The other boy was deposited onto his warm, flat stomach. Butters took his thumb out of his mouth and smiled, nuzzling into the flesh.

Gage sighed and gently pushed Butters onto his pillow, kicking off the rest of his clothes and sliding under the covers. He wasn't surprised to see Butters happily attach himself to his side again. Gage took a final breath from his cigarette and snuffed the tip out gently. He'd finish it later. For now he rested his curly head on top of Butters' and shut his eyes, noting before he drifted off that his eyeliner was hideously mussed.

__________

Butters woke up to the feeling of skin against skin. He blinked and sat up, his blood freezing in his veins when he saw Gage's thin, scarred arm draped casually around his waist. Butters clawed down his hair, biting his lip. "Oh God, oh Jesus…" he struggled out of the bed, falling to the rug with a loud thud.

"Oh Butters what did you do…?" Butters scrambled to his feet, looking around for his shirt. He found it draped over a preserved ram skull. He yanked it quickly off the curled brown horns, yelping when the skull teetered and fell onto the floor. Butters winced, grabbing the skull and putting it back on its shelf. He pulled his shirt over his head and swallowed a yelp when he stepped on something sharp.

A tooth had fallen out of the ram. He picked up the flat tooth and attempted to slide it back into its place. "Oh Jesus!" Butters hissed, trying to arrange the skull so that the hole wasn't showing.

"What the heck are you doing?" Gage's smoky voice came from the bed.

Butters turned around, grinding his knuckles together. "I…uh…" he started, hiding the tooth behind his back. Gage smirked and picked up the half cigarette he'd left on the ashtray last night.

"Don't worry about the skull." The older boy said, flipping his mass of black curls out of his face. "It was old anyway."

"Aren't you worried 'bout school?" Butters asked nervously. Gage raised an eyebrow, lighting his cigarette.

"Are you serious?" Gage muttered. "Look, Stotch, I don't care if I'm at school today or not. You shouldn't either. It's not like we have any projects due. Besides, what do those sheep give a shit about us? Mm? They never have and they never will."

"Y-You think so?" Butters sat down on the bed as Gage sat up. He paled. "Oh Jesus…you were naked the entire night?"

Gage shrugged.

"A-And you were cuddlin' me?!" Butters squeaked. Gage gave him an indifferent look.

"You kissed me first. Mind you, you were completely freaking high when you did it. You also took off your shirt first." He pointed out, cigarette pinned between his first two fingers. Butters looked like he was about to throw up.

"Hamburgers…I feel sick…" he clutched his stomach.

"That's probably because you didn't eat, then you ate all that greasy food last night like some college kid on a bender." Gage said, resting his back against his black headboard. "Don't throw up in my room. Come back and lie down."

Butters obeyed, laying on his side. The nausea was ebbing away…Gage was probably right. His poor stomach had gotten all that food. "You didn't have to do that last night. I didn't work for it or nothin'." Butters mumbled, letting Gage rest his free hand on his hair.

"We needed to get some sort of protein into you. " The goth muttered. He couldn't help noticing the allusion to what he'd really been wanting to do with Butters the other night. The kisses had given him something to think about.

"W-what about the drugs? Am I gonna lose all my teeth and get all ugly like everyone else that does them?" Butters asked suddenly, fear in his large eyes.

Gage rolled his eyes. "That's just your stupid authority figures trying to keep you from doing something completely harmless. They want to control your thoughts, Butters. That's why I don't hang around them. Fuck them if they think a letter grade is going to make them change my opinion of myself." He said.

Butters nodded. "Yeah…fuck 'em." He smiled, though Gage couldn't help thinking that a swear word coming out of that soft mouth was a rare occasion. Butters stumbled over the word as if trying to stop himself from saying it.

"Tomorrow at school, come hang out behind the building with me. The old area is still there." Gage purred when he felt Butters lay his head back on his chest.

"Do you like me?" Butters asked, shifting his head so his chin rested on Gage's pale skin, eyes meeting the other boy's.

"Love didn't work out for my parents, why the hell should it work for me?" Gage answered Butters' question with one of his own.

___________

Butters gathered up his things, stuffing Mr. Bear back into the pocket of his hoodie while Gage pulled a shirt over his head and pants over his pale hips.

"M-My dad's gonna kill me. My clothes all stink like pot and I got pizza stains on my hoodie." Butters mumbled unhappily as Gage pulled his large boots on his feet, a fresh cigarette between his lips. "I know what's gonna happen too. I'm gonna come in the door and he'll start hollerin', then I'll be grounded." Butters continued, running his fingers through his pale, straw-colored hair.

Gage rolled his eyes, clawing his curly hair back over part of his face. "I agreed to walk you down the stairs since my freaking zygote donors are still screaming at each other down there, but you have to agree not to talk. If you don't talk, then they won't figure out I had anyone over." He said around the cancer stick.

Butters ground his knuckles together and nodded as Gage opened the door to his room, letting fresh air rush in and make the smell of pot and old pizza that much more apparent. "I'm going to have to light some more fucking incense…" Gage said in disgust as they walked down the stairs. Sure enough, Butters saw glimpses of a man and a woman glaring nastily at each other, making snide comments every few seconds.

As soon as they were out of the house Gage sighed. "They're divorced, but for some fucking reason my dad didn't move out. So he fucks girls on the couch and my mom yells at him when he does." He growled softly, nodding at the street in the direction of Butters' house. "Go on. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

Butters smiled sadly and threw his arms around Gage's neck, kissing his cheek and narrowly avoiding burning his own with Gage's cigarette. "T-thanks." He said.

"Stop choking me and go to your funeral, prep." Gage said, though his voice couldn't completely mask the lulled tone of pleasure at the small gesture. Butters smiled and let go of him, a light blush on his cheeks. "Wait."

Butters paused halfway through turning to head down the street. Gage pulled his Zune out of his pocket and bunched together the ear buds. "Use this." He said, holding out at arms' length. Butters took it uneasily, his eyes meeting the goth's.

"But you listen to this all the time." Butters said, tucking it into his pocket and putting one of the ear buds awkwardly in.

"So give it back to me when you can, fag." Gage said impatiently.

As Butters walked down the street, Gage saw him press a button inside his pocket, yelp, pull the Zune out and struggle to turn down the volume. He smirked and blew cigarette smoke into the air. Some people couldn't handle Dimmu Borgir.


	6. The Worst Crime

Risashootingstar- I love Gage and Butters together. They're so cute! I tried to find some fanart of the two, but I can't v.v

Xyass- and more you shall have!

Undead-Reject- Thank you very much!

Ok, I tried to find fanart on these two but I can't. Anyone draw?

Caution on this chapter: Rape warning. It hopefully won't be too graphic but I felt physically sick writing it, so a few people might be sensitive. Skip it if you want, but it is important to the story.

______________

Butters finally found some calm music on the way home. He couldn't tell what they were saying; he had a feeling it was in some Eastern European language like Russian. He smiled and pulled out the Zune, poking the middle button awkwardly. "R…Ramsteen? Huh…must be like Bruce Springsteen's brother or somethin'." He mumbled and shoved it back in his pocket alongside Mr. Bear.

He sighed in relief when he saw the empty driveway. His parents must be on their date night!

Butters smiled and turned off the Zune, grabbing the extra key under the mat and unlocking the door. He pulled off his hoodie, accidentally taking his shirt with it, and walked upstairs to his room. He tossed the clothing on the bed and yanked on a plain brown shirt. His parents didn't like it when they came home from date night and he was wearing something stupid. He hid the Hello Kitty shirt, which smelled outrageously like pot, into his clothes hamper. Hopefully the smell of dirty socks would get on it and he wouldn't have to explain anything to his dad. He'd get grounded for sure!

He pulled Mr. Bear out of his hoodie pocket and laid him on the pillow. "Now you go to sleep." He muttered, smiling and tucking the bear's little arms over his soft, fuzzy brown tummy. He kicked off his shoes and padded down into the living room, knowing better than to get a snack. He'd had enough food this week with all that pizza…he'd be just as fat as Eric soon! "When you can't count your ribs then you're a Cartman." He recited the saying his father had once shouted in his face.

Butters sat on the couch, crossing his stick-thin legs Indian-style. "Huh. Wonder if my dad can count his ribs." He said, humming to himself while he looked at the blank television. He recalled an old episode of Terrance and Philip he'd seen at Eric's house and played it in his head, imagining he was watching it on the TV. He used up too much electricity on his room as it was…he didn't have any right to watch television when his parents weren't.

"All my dad wants to watch is stupid ol' football." Butters mumbled. "I hate football."

He continued to imagine Terrance and Phillip episodes until he couldn't remember any more, and curled up on the couch. He sighed softly and shut his eyes, letting himself drift off to sleep.

_______________

The door slammed and Butters woke up with a start. He straightened up and smoothed his shirt, his blood running cold when he saw his father leering in the doorway. How long had he been asleep? The windows were all pitch black. He swallowed thickly and wiped drool from his lips.

"Butters…where the FUCK," Steven roared the last word. "…were you last night? Tell me you little shit!" There was a stumble in his step when he stalked the few feet across the floor to the couch. Butters reflexively scrambled up against the opposite armrest, his heart leaping into his throat and expanding to choke him.

"I-I was with a-" Butters started.

"You were with what, you little faggot?!" Mr. Stotch covered the distance between them faster than Butters thought possible and grabbed him by the throat. "I know where you were. I saw you leave with that Cartman boy. Are you fucking him, hm? I see the way he paws the Broflovski kid!" Butters smelled alcohol on his breath. God, how much had he had to drink.

"N-No! Eric's just a friend…he wanted to hang out!" Butters stammered, pressing his back further against the armrest. His yelp was cut off when Steven's grip tightened. Butters' hands instinctively flew to the one around his neck.

"I used to fuck that boy." Steven's face twisted into an evil grin, his face inches from his son's. "Eric Cartman. I used to grab his fucking hips and drive my cock into him so deep he would cry. Little whore loved it…" He hissed. His other hand ran up Butters' thigh.

Butters gurgled and clawed at Steven's hand. His father pulled back his head and slammed it into the couch armrest. Butters saw stars, and his vision was getting little dark, fuzzy corners around the edges.

"If I had thought better about this…I would have figured out I could get it for free." Steven purred, pulling Butters' head back again and this time shoved him over the back of the couch. Butters felt his head hit the wall hard and he heard a ringing in his ears.

"Dad!" Butters managed to yelp before Steven's fingers entwined in his scalp and pulled his head back.

"Shut the fuck up." Steven growled, grabbing the edges of Butters' shirt and yanking it roughly over his head. Butters grabbed his pants when he felt his father yank them down over his hips. His head met the wall again and he blacked out for a second. "Spread your fucking legs and don't struggle." Steven pulled Butters' pants completely off and spread his son's naked legs. A zipper was undone swiftly.

Butters felt hot tears well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. "Dad please…" he begged, feeling his head pulled back and white hot pain shove into his rear. Something tore and Steven saw blood trickle down the inside of Butters' pale thigh.

The boy screamed against the couch when he felt his father move inside of him, and the black edges of his vision swirl into pinpricks, then completely overtake him.

* * *

Pain was the first thing that slammed into Butters when he awoke. He lifted a shaky hand to his scalp and felt sticky, half-coagulated blood running down his face and near his sinuses. This wasn't happening. Tears welled up and he choked back a sob. His very windpipe hurt, swelled and bruised from getting clutched so hard. He tried to move…he was on the floor. His head was resting against carpet. His knees were up. He struggled up on his elbows and bit his fist to muffle a cry. He looked down at the carpet and felt sick.

Blood marred the light brown carpet in a huge deep red spot. Butters drew a ragged breath and tentatively touched between his legs. When he brought it back to view, creamy streaks marred the red, staining it pink. Butters breaths picked up and he couldn't take it anymore. He screamed. He screamed louder than he ever had in his entire life.

He couldn't breathe properly. Everything was moving around him, the blood made him nauseous. His stomach heaved and he threw up what was left of the pizza from last night onto the carpet. Vomit ran with blood and he struggled to get up, screaming at the ceiling when the blood became a small flood between his legs, running down his thighs and calves to the floor. "Oh god…" he choked, his breaths and heartbeats as fast as a mouse in a trap.

Butters scrambled into the bathroom, slipping in his own blood on the tiles when it tricked down to pool at his heels. Bruises marred his throat. He shakily touched his hips and saw the impressions of fingers on his hips. His father had…he couldn't even think of the word. No. No please this hadn't happened. He could wake up from this nightmare. "C'mon Butters wake up." He whimpered at his reflection in the mirror. "Please wake up…"

__________________

Gage sighed and shut his eyes, spraying the Febreze into the air one more time. It didn't quite cover the smell of pot and pizza, but it did it well enough that Gage didn't fear his parents figuring it out. He wondered if the little blond had gotten home alright. It was late into the afternoon. He smiled and stretched out on his bed. He'd liked the feeling of someone next to him, putting his arm around him, that cute head nestled on his stomach.

Who knew that he'd be falling for one of those little bitches shaking their asses down the hallway at school? A conformist, someone who smiled genuinely at the outside world was claiming his heart. He laughed. "How fucking ironic." He growled softly. But hell, goths were a rare breed here in South Park. They were about as rare as albinos.

It wasn't uncommon that animals who, for lack of their own species, were adopted into others. Maybe he, as the lone goth, was destined to fall for someone the complete opposite of himself? Namely, Leopold Stotch. The kid who got beat up both by kids at school and by his parents. The boy who no one noticed only ate so little at lunch that he was finished before anyone else had sat down. The boy whose spine could be seen clearly when he changed for gym.

Gage sighed. "Well, you couldn't do much worse in a fucking town like this now, could you?" he asked the ceiling. "Better a little conformist zombie than a chatty bitch with Jimmy Choos on her feet."


	7. Blood in the Snow

Risashootingstar- lol yep, classic.

Xyass- I know, I tried to make it as painless as possible for the readers XD

NotebookChen – My spirit's going through an anger management course at the moment. He can't help himself.

Beyond-The-Limit- Rammstein is the shit.

* * *

Butters staggered into his room, one hand holding a wad of toilet paper between his legs. Red seeped down from his thighs, a slow, small trickle compared to the flood his father had opened. "I'm gonna get blamed for the floor." His shaky voice said in a small, bare whisper that barely had a hint of his voice to it. He looked at his bed, so soft and comforting…then thought better of it. The floor was one thing, his bed sheets being soaked in blood was quite another.

He took the toilet paper away from between his legs. The bleeding had stopped…the paper was just soaked through. He threw it in his wastebasket, sighing and pulling on a fresh pair of underwear. "Jesus, my mom's going to be mad." He shivered, his mind still reeling at what had happened. He knew his father hated him because he was a disgrace to the family, but why? He deserved beatings perhaps, because he was an ugly idiot, but never this pain. This agony that wound around his heart and made him feel as if he could no longer breathe.

Why had he done something like that? Butters was ugly, even his own father had told him so. Ugly and worthless…like an object they used to keep the appearance of a healthy marriage. He knelt on the floor, the only position that spread the weight on his knees and calves, not his rear. The tears welled up again, hot and stinging in his eyes. His fingers gripped the lightly coloured carpet for a moment before he looked up and saw Mr. Bear through the blurry mask of the tears. He struggled up to his feet, muffling a cry of pain as his scabs were stretched. His bloodstained fingers snatched the bear from his covers and he let the front half of his body fall onto the bed.

The brown cloth soaked up red and salt water alike as Butters clenched his beloved toy close to him. The pain, emotional and physical, was unimaginable. He had begged, cried for his father to stop. But he'd paid him no heed. He needed to leave. He needed to get out of here. He straightened up, hugging Mr. Bear to his chest. Butters dressed himself gingerly, seeing the blood stain the leg of his jeans as he pulled them up. He yanked on his hoodie and stumbled down the stairs, still partially blinded by his crying.

Butters ripped open the door and ran out into the dark, whimpering in pain. "Oh God…" he dared to fully extend a leg and felt the stain on the seat of his jeans spread down the backs of his thighs. It was hot and wet at first, but as he ran he felt it harden into something cold in the Colorado night air.

He had to get somewhere safe. Somewhere dark and quiet where he could be safe, even from his own family. He felt the Zune hit against his stomach gently as it swung in the pouch of his hoodie and knew the answer.

_____________

Gage sighed when he heard the doorbell ring. "Jesus fucking Christ, why the fuck do they have to go and wake my fucking parents? Stupid fucking conformists making their fucking jock antics in the middle of the god damned night!" He growled and threw back the covers, sliding his pale form out of bed. He yanked on a pair of loose pants adorned with chains and pyramid studs, pitch black that swung around his feet like robes. He walked down the stairs, pausing one delicate, skinny foot on a step and tilting his head.

Not a stir from the woman upstairs, nor from the man on the couch downstairs. Good. He padded softly to the door, the only sound a soft jingling and the swishing of cloth. He opened the door quietly, slowly as he dared, ready to slip outside and scream at whomever was knocking so loudly in the middle of the night. His words caught in his throat when he saw who it was. "Butters?" he raised an eyebrow at the form quivering on the doorstep. His eyes traveled down and saw the red staining the welcome mat around the boy's feet. "What the hell happened to you?" Gage grabbed Butters' arm, surprised to see the boy flinch under his fingers.

Gage pulled Butters inside and shut the door quietly. "What happened?" Gage repeated, holding Butters' shoulders with his thin fingers. To his surprise Butters let loose a cry of anguish and threw his arms around his neck, sobbing against his collarbone. One hand clutched the same stuffed bear he had brought over to his house before. Gage saw red stains on the toy out of the corner of his eye. "You're bleeding…come on. Quickly." He said, patting Butters' back.

He peered around the staircase into the living room, where the dark form on the couch was groaning and twisting. Gage gently pushed Butters off and grabbed his hand, leading him up the stairs. He saw the boy wince with every step, and when he guided Butters into the bathroom, he saw his rear. The bloodstain that soaked through his jeans was clearly visible, making two long bloody streaks down the backs of his thighs.

"Get into the shower Butters." Gage found his normally gruff voice gentle, nodding to the shower. "Leave your clothes, it's alright." He backed away from the other boy, his eyes locked on those quavering thighs. It was obvious what had been done. There were only injuries to Butters' face and his backside.

The sobbing boy slowly shut the bathroom door in his face and Gage sat down on the top of the stairs. Butters had been raped. His jaw set and he narrowed his eyes. "Fucking hell." He muttered. Butters was the most innocent, kind person he knew. Why the hell would anyone want to hurt a boy like that? Granted, Butters had the wide eyes and naiveté of an innocent child half his age, but he was the last person to deserve it. "Yet more evidence there is no God." He growled, hearing the shower's rush of water from the bathroom behind him.

He knew the right thing to do. The sex ed courses at school had all told them what to do in case of rape. Never take a shower or change clothes, to call a doctor and the police. But how could he dare expose that shattered innocence to more pain, to poking, prodding and questioning? Especially by people who had seen Butters around town or the doctor that had probably examined him since birth. The blood was a sign of a serious injury, however.

"Fuck it." He got up and headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. A small black plate held his mother's keys, another beside it for his father's. He snatched up his mother's keys from the left plate. They would take the truck. It was faster than the old minivan his father had been forced into driving. His mother always won the arguments. He stuffed the keys into his pocket and walked slowly back up the stairs.

"Hey, Butters?" he called softly into the bathroom door, raking his thick black curls out of his eyes. He didn't hear an answer, and the door was unlocked. He opened it and slid inside, seeing the bloodstained pants on the floor along with the hoodie. He hadn't been wearing a shirt. Gage gathered up the soiled clothing and sighed at the shower. "Butters…you have to tell me what happened? Are you still bleeding? Do you feel torn inside?" he asked. Christ he needed a cigarette. There was no way he was going to get through this without heavy amounts of nicotine.

"…No." Butters' whisper was barely audible over the rush of the water. "I…I'm not torn…not very big at least."

The other boy's voice was shaky, fighting through sobs to be heard.

"Was it fucking Cartman who did this? Because I'll kick his Nazi ass back to Auschwitz if he did." Gage found himself snarling.

"E-Eric didn't." Butters said, and burst into a fresh wail.

Gage looked to the ceiling. If there was a God…he needed help on this one. "Look, talk to me when you get out of the shower. There's a big fluffy black bathrobe in the closet next to the door. It's my dad's, but you can use it." He said. "I'll throw these in the washer…where's your bear?"

"He's in here with me." Butters sobbed.

"I can get the bloodstains out if you give him to me." Gage said softly. A wet, white hand snaked out from behind the shower curtain and held forth the soaking wet bear. Gage took Mr. Bear gently and had the presence of mind to leave to shove the bloody mess into the washer. He was lucky the Zune fell out upon untangling the black mess of a hoodie, otherwise he would have washed it to the point of being unusable. He washed everything separately to separate the bloody water out between washes, then washed the jeans again while drying the hoodie and the bear.

Butters slowly came out of the bathroom, dressed head to foot in his father's rich black bathrobe. The cloth hugged up around the deep purple bruises on Butters' throat, the swelling under his eye and the ragged bloody mark on his forehead. Gage noticed he was moving very stiffly. "Are you sure nothing's ripped?" Gage asked, going to him and putting his arms gingerly around Butters.

"I-I'm sure…it's scabbed…" Butters said quietly, staring straight ahead. Gage looked at him. God, he must be in shock. The need for a cigarette grew stronger than ever before but Gage fought it down.

"Let's go to my room." He said, gently pulling Butters into the black bedroom and having him lay facedown on the bed. This way there was no pressure on his sensitive, abused rear. Gage put his heavy covers slowly over the top of the bathrobe. "I'm going to go get your bear, alright?" Gage whispered, rubbing Butters' back slowly.

"Okay." Butters whispered against his pillow.

By the time Gage came back with the warm, clean, dry bear, Butters was sound asleep on his bed. Gage sighed and picked up his cigarette pack and lighter. He set the bear next to the sleeping boy, rubbing a hand up and down his back for a moment before opening his bedroom window and slipping outside for a smoke.

He perched in the tree, lighting up a clove and sticking it between his lips. "Fucking Christ." He looked down and saw the slight trickle of blood the boy had left when he had come to his house. It was slowly, slowly being covered by fresh falling snow that had just started to gather around his shoulders. "I'm going to kill whomever did that." He growled to himself.


	8. Visiting Scarface

Notebookchen- Awwh honey don't cry. Butters will be just fine!

Beyond-the-Limit- I always pictured Butters' father as a sick son of a bitch.

Undead-Reject – What other brand of affection do you think Gage would express? I love how South Park lampooned goths.

Xyass – I wasn't sure about this crack pairing at first, but now I absolutely love it.

Risashootingstar- I know, right? Lol

Eyepatch Productions – There aren't a lot of nice, cracked up fanfictions out there. I will jar your brain.

Daughter Deception – Seems to be making a lot of people cry! Good thing I'm a sucker for drama.

* * *

Gage pulled out the keys to his father's truck, sighing and toying with the oblong piece of gold metal in his fingers. He was mulling the decision to take Butters to the hospital over a cigarette…but then the other boy's father would be called in, or his mother, and things would only get worse for him at home. Maybe it was better that the optimistic little ray of sunshine just stayed hidden from the world.

If that ray hadn't been stomped out by what had happened. Gage felt an overwhelming urge to grab whatever heavy object he could and beat the living shit out of the monster who would dare do this to someone as undeserving as Butters. He clenched the cigarette tighter in his teeth, feeling the nicotine seep out of the filter and onto his tongue.

"Unbelievable that the filth of society would settle in South Park like algae on rocks." He sneered, irritably ripping the stub of a cigarette out and crushing it in his palm. The embers snuffed out quickly without burning his palm and he shifted his feet on the tree, sighing and bending his head slightly. His curly hair trailed down over his quite large nose. A Jew-nose, Cartman had called it.

Gage smirked and ran his fingers over the feature, thinking of Butters. Sure, the kid was cute...but God, how would this affect him? Would he still be the same Butters? Only time would tell, but for now the boy was staying with him. There was no way he could dare bring him to a hospital, but it might just be the right decision. After all, they could confirm it was his father, they could bring the man down on criminal charges.

The goth looked back at his shut window, then shook his head and looked back at the snowy street.

Well there was one way to know for sure…he had to ask Butters himself. He heard the sliding sound of heavy wood on wood behind him.

"W-what are ya doin' out there?"

Gage twisted around again, this time to see a pale-faced Butters clutching his bear, looking at him from the open window. "Get back in bed, Butters." Gage said softly. "You don't want to break your scabs."

Butters blushed slightly and looked down into Mr. Bear's fur, then slowly hobbled back to the bed. It pained Gage to see him walk so stiffly, as if he were trying to move his legs without shifting his hips at all. He was relieved to see only clean buttocks though, no sign of blood. At the back of his mind, he abandoned the emerging thought that it wasn't an unattractive view.

"Look, I'm going to go get a doctor, alright? I need to make sure that you're going to be ok. Is that ok with you?" he asked, a bit more brusquely than he would have liked. Butters nodded from his position laying on his stomach, pulling the bear closely. "I'll be back in a minute, and I'm going to lock the door, alright?" Gage said slowly. "Trust me, you don't want my fucking zombie parents coming in here and seeing you."

______________

Butters lay on the bed, sighing softly. It felt so awkward being in here without pants or underwear on, but his mind had far more dizzying things to worry about. The first one that came to mind when Gage shut the door and went to go get a doctor was fear. Fear that the next shadow cast on the wall would be his father come to finish him off. The bruises on his skull hurt so badly, but not near as much as the ones on his hips. His father's fingers were perfectly imprinted there…even little red crescent moons from Stephen's fingernails were dug deeply into his soft white skin.

Walking to the window had put him in so much pain. In the shower he'd thankfully gotten rid of most of the cum seeping from his rear, but he could still feel sticky blood between his legs. Butters could smell Gage all around the room, which both comforted him and added to the feeling of something alien. He pulled the large black pillow closer under his head, plunging his nose into Mr. Bear's fur to smell something more like himself. In fact, all he smelt was old blood and laundry detergent.

What would he do now? Where would he stay? He couldn't go back to his parent's home. His father would be so angry at him for the messes he'd made and all the blood. He shouldn't have the right to complain, after all. His father's house, his father's rules. He should have just shut up and submitted to whatever Stephen wanted to do to him.

Butters couldn't help feeling that it was wrong. Everything was wrong. He shouldn't feel like he just betrayed his father, he should feel angry at the hurt…shouldn't he?

_________________

"He's up here." Gage said quietly, ignoring the questioning looks his parents gave him as he led the medics up the stairs. Even though he'd asked them not to, an ambulance flashed red and white lights against the side of his house. But shit, why the hell would they listen to a kid? The medics had brought a rape kit as well, which made Gage's stomach twist when he saw the label. He hated the thought of putting Butters through this.

"In there." He nodded at his room, flicking the lights on and staying outside his room. He wanted to give Butters a bit of privacy, considering what the medics were about to do. God, his hands were shaking. He cuddled them up in his armpits, which only made the shaking spread to his narrow ribcage. He needed a smoke, and not tobacco either. If he wasn't mistaken, by the time everything was said and done Butters could use some green as well.

He felt so guilty leaving Butters to fend for himself. Gage peeked into the room and saw Butters with his arms wrapped around a medic's waist, sobbing into the man's uniform as if it were the last thing on earth that would comfort him. The men were treating him gently, at least.

Gage ended up waiting nearly two hours until one of the medics came out, closing up the rape kit. "He's going to be alright." He told Gage. "We gave him something to help him rest. Normally I'd recommend you'd send him home so he could tell his parents, but in his condition he'd be better off just staying with you. If your parents don't mind. Keep him rested and in bed, and comfort him. We're going to forward this information to the police…he said he didn't know much about his attacker and by the looks of the bruises on his head, I wouldn't expect him to."

Gage nodded. "Yeah, thanks." He muttered. He watched them leave, frowning deeply. "Fuckers didn't even take him to the hospital." He mumbled under his breath, slipping into the room where Butters lay on his side, clutching the bear. He was dead asleep by the looks of it, the covers pulled up around his shoulders. Gage sighed and went to the nightstand, snatching his wallet. He tucked his curls behind one ear and bent over, kissing Butters softly on the cheek.

"God, next I'm going to be making him fucking breakfast like I'm his damned mother." He growled to himself as he shut the door. He was falling for the innocent little lump of smiles and straw-hair on his bed, and it brushed him awkwardly, like a toddler with a kitten. Especially with the current situation Butters was in.

Everything that was goth in him laughed at the idea of two oddball pairings here in South Park. He needed to get back to his roots. Maybe hit up Henrietta later. She visited the flippy-haired kid's grave to drink and smoke every now and then. He'd get her opinion on the matter when he had a reason to get together with her.

Time to visit the neighborhood drug dealer.

___________

"The Jew broke my shit, vampire kid. I don't have any." Cartman snarled defensively, his bulk filling up the doorway of the Cartman residence like some sort of fat pitbull. Gage gave him a look, dropping his cigarette to the concrete steps and crushing them with a boot.

"It's a fucking medical emergency, you Nazi douchebag." Gage growled back, narrowing his eyeliner-smeared lids at the other boy. "If you don't have any, ask your teachers-pet boyfriend. I've got money, Cartman, and I know you need it."

He saw the brown eyes waver for a moment, then narrow into slits. "Fine. Come down to the basement and don't fucking touch anything! And for Fuhrer's sake don't tell Kahl I'm still dealing." The door slammed shut. Of course. Cartman wanted him to jump the fence and come through the storm doors to the basement.

"Paranoid…" Gage muttered as he jumped off the stairs and went around to the fence that housed the backyard. The gate was locked. He rolled his eyes and leapt onto a nearby trashcan, his skinny form balancing precariously before gripping the fence and launching himself over it. He felt like some teenager sneaking around his girlfriend's house, but Cartman was the only person who dealt weed, coke, meth and angel dust in the whole of South Park. North Park too, come to think of it. The other dealers had 'mysteriously' gotten ill or were found dead in back alleys near Denver. Nobody fucked with Eric Theodore Cartman's income, especially now that he had a boyfriend he was notoriously protective of. Kyle Broflovski and Eric Cartman were some sort of weird 'Beauty and the Beast' pair that had come out of left field last winter.

Gage kicked the storm doors irritably with his boot, glaring down at the wood. He heard a key turn in the lock and Cartman threw them open. "Keep your thong on." The large boy snarled out of his cave, disappearing into the depths of the basement. Gage squatted down, peering down his ample nose into the den. Tubes and wiring ran everywhere across work benches obviously made by Cartman's own hand. "Got his own fucking operation down there. Who the hell does he think he is, Scarface?" Gage muttered, startled for a second when Cartman's head popped up again.

"Say hello to my little friend, motherfucker. I've got an ounce but it doesn't come cheap." Cartman watched the gothic kid roll his eyes and pull money out of his wallet, handing it over.

Cartman tossed him the small lump of brown-green pot leaves and counted the money. "Jewish tendencies wearing off on you, eh?" Gage smirked. The storm doors slammed shut in his face.


	9. Rapping Ram

Risashootingstar – So am I. He'll get his comeuppance.

UnicornsRKickass – Thank you very much!

Beyond-the-Limit – It is cute. I had never heard that song before, but it works! Weird.

NotebookChen - Yes Butters, grow a pair!

Alright guys, sorry for not updating for nearly a week and a half. I'm so, so sorry but shit was going down at school and I had my birthday. I am now twenty. 3 Anyway apologies, I'll get to A Personal Paradox after this as soon as possible.

Rig

_________________

Gage peered closely at the couch as he came in, but it appeared his father had gone to bed again without inquiring about the medics that had come into the house. That meant one of two things. He was drunk, or he simply didn't care. The boy sneered and tucked the weed against his body, making his way up the stairs. He couldn't hear the medic's talking, they must have left the house…surprising, but it was a small town. Who really cared if someone got raped here and there? It would make news for a while, but all in all did any of these brainwashed zombies care for a person?

He opened the door to his room, clearing his throat. "Butters?" he asked, slipping his thin form in and shutting the door. The form on the bed was asleep, breathing slowly and consistently. Gage sat on the end of the bed, opening up the weed and pulling a board from under his bed. He ripped open a new pack of rolling papers from his desk, starting to roll joints. He had gotten fairly quick and good at making them after his parents' non-involvement in his life. They honestly didn't care if he smoked, what he smoked, and where he smoked it.

Gage sighed as his fingers deftly rolled up small quantities of pot in the joints, twisting the ends and setting them aside. He licked another paper and began again, humming sad songs to himself. It took nearly an hour, but soon he had all the pot scraped up and twisted into small, portion-sized joints. He slid them back into the bag. This would give Butters a good smoke-out, not to mention a piece of his own personal coping mechanism to use at home.

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth when he felt thin, pasty arms wrap around him and a blond head nuzzle between his shoulderblades. "Hi." Butters whispered against his back. "I-If you don't want me huggin' you or nothin', it's okay. I know I'm a fag." He said miserably. Gage looked back at him briefly, then turned his attention to digging the largest of the blunts out of the bag and setting the rest aside.

"Fag is nothing more than a word the stupid jock assholes came up with to label everything that doesn't look, smell, and act like them. Names like that aren't worth repeating. So what if you're gay." Gage said gruffly, pulling out his lighter. "Here, you need this more than I do." He held the lighter and blunt over his shoulder. "Quit listening to all the shit your parents want you to listen to. Just because they fucked and you popped out of your mother doesn't give them instant authority, especially with the shit your dad pulled. You, as the child, have the right to disown those fucking biochemical donors and forge your own path."

Butters took the drug, turning the small white thing over in his fingers. The lighter was on the coverlet next to him. "They're always hollerin' at me…" he mumbled softly. "…I know I make stupid faces and I can't do nothin' right but that's not my fault."

Gage nodded and got up, pulling his boots off and reseating himself near the pillows. Butters squirmed awkwardly, slowly as not to pull his scab open, to face him. "Gage?" Butters asked.

"Yeah?" The goth lay on his back, sighing up at the old newspaper clippings on his ceiling announcing the obituaries.

"How do you light this?"

Gage laughed, sitting up. "Put the end in your mouth, and when I hold the flame up to it suck air through it, and you've got it lit. Okay?" he picked up the lighter. Butters stuck the end between his teeth and sucked loudly when the light flicked at the paper end. He coughed when the familiar sweet smoke entered his lungs dropped the joint on the sheets. Gage snatched it up and smirked, swiping ashes off the black.

"I'm sorry." Butters apologized through his hacking. "I still can't do nothin' right, even doin' something I'm not supposed to." He looked down and rubbed his knuckles together, a habit Gage was finding irresistibly cute. Gage laughed and took a drag himself, pulling Butters close to him. The boy hissed and scrunched up, offsetting Gage's happy mood. The goth frowned. "Sorry." He said, but Butters shook his head and snuggled up to his side.

"It's okay. I like this. It makes everything seem unreal in this room, like I don't hafta go outside and see things anymore." Butters mumbled, taking the offered joint.

"You know what we should do…we should get rid of your father once and for all. Make a plan to get rid of him. You and I. Together we can do it." Gage smirked, and Butters nodded enthusiastically. "I don't want him as my dad." Butters said softly, handing the joint back. They passed it back and forth, but Gage could feel something was wrong. His body felt unusual, like it was floating. It wasn't a bad feeling, but usually the feeling he obtained from copious amounts of booze and not pot. He looked at the joint in his hand, now burned down to a nub. It was their third of the night. Had they really been smoking that much? He couldn't see the clock clearly…the digits kept changing at the speed of light. He frowned at the ram skull resting on his shelf, seeing the skull's grin grow impossibly large and the horns straighten out. What the hell?

He looked at Butters, but the boy's hair was now large, tangerine crystals, flowing and moving like hair shouldn't. More like seaweed caught in a current. "Acid…" Gage growled. "The fucker…" His voice was no longer his. He rested back against the headboard, shutting his eyes when the ram skull began to lift off the shelf and laugh at him. He just had to keep his eyes closed. Everything would stabilize if he shut his eyes and ignored the world.

Gage felt hands at his waist, but shook it off as an effect of the acid-laced marijuana. God damn Cartman! The fucker had done something to him for disturbing his caveman-like state. Gage risked cracking open an eye but the walls had turned to oil and he shut them again, fairly sure someone was pulling down his fly. He shifted his hips a little, wanting his pants off of him. They felt like they were getting tighter by the second, constricting his blood flow and turning his feet to withered gray things. He shoved his pants off, hearing someone grunt. He must have kicked Butters.

"Butters…shut your eyes…" he growled. The last thing the shattered little blond boy needed was a bad trip. He didn't want to see Butters shrieking about the walls turning into blood or something boiling his skin away. He had heard stories of people having bad trips and trying to swallow knives or something of the sort. But Gage felt oddly aware of what was going on. He felt like he could just dismiss the things coming at him. Like he could sneer at the stupid ram skull that was for some reason rapping annoying Lil Wayne songs in his ear, and ignore the cigarettes pushing into his veins.

"You're made of candy. I need to find your lollipop." Butters giggled, his head descending into his lap. Gage felt lips leave trails of fire on his hips and a mouth close around the most intimate part of him, stroking it into hardness. God, this wasn't right. Butters was drooling and sucking his cock, and while he was aware of it, the pleasure was burning into his skin like a brand.

"Butters…" he put his hands on the boy's hair, opening his eyes briefly to see crystals forming around his fingers and freezing them. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip and feeling coppery, slippery blood on his tongue. He could barely get the boy's name out. It was like a disc someone had scratched and it ran over and over the other boy's name, his tongue refusing to string a sentence together.

Butters lips ran up and down his cock, his soft, wet tongue flicking around the sensitive skin. Gage felt his mouth fall open in an attempt to gasp for air. Thoughts were made out of soap, something he could grasp but not keep ahold of. Butters rose up and down quicker, his head bobbing in his lap, hands on Gage's bony hips. Something was gathering deep within Gage, boiling over, threatening to explode. He felt fire run up the underside of his cock and shoot out of the tip.

He heard Butters swallow, then darkness tinge around his being. "I feel so funny…Mr. Bear's talking to me…" the blond was muttering, his head in Gage's lap but his lips had released him. "I think I'm going to go to sleep, Gage…the covers want me to."

_____________

Gage woke up with shards of sunlight wedging his eyelids open, wielded by small fiery imps that sparked stars across his vision. He growled and pawed at the light, wanting it to go away. He'd left his window open, and sunlight was streaming through. The room smelled heavily like pot, but the smell was off somehow.

He looked down at his freezing lap and saw Butters, snoring loudly, cheek nestled against his soft penis. "Shit." Gage growled and lifted Butters' head off of him, gently laying him on the sheets. "Christ…that was acid. It had to be." He pulled up his pants, which had gotten tangled around his ankles.


	10. Who Grows What?

Cyanide13 – Butters has always had hideous luck. And yes, they are making up a plan….dun dun duuun.

Beyond-The-Limit – You do some crazy shit on acid. Yes, I've dropped once before and some of Gage's visions were my own. It fucks up your head something good.

NotebookChen – Now that would have been interesting. Bestiality.

Undead-Reject – Because I can? XD And because I love you guys.

RisaShootingStar – No one is ever a bother to me if they take time out of their day to tell me how I'm doing with mah writing. Good thing you're not dropping acid any time soon…stuff is nuts.

* * *

"If you want to explain to me why I had to ignore a hot little Jew waving his ass at me to look at your ugly fucking face on a Sunday morning, that would be wonderful."

Gage stared at the fat teenager leaning out of the doorway of the Cartman residence like he had lobsters crawling out of his ears. "You laced the joint, you little douche. I wanted to relax, not trip like some fucking head case. Look, I've been skipping school for over a week to help him with what happened. I don't need bad drugs fucking this up for me." He folded his arms across his narrow chest. He wanted to punch Cartman so badly for making Butters trip like that. For him, it wasn't that big of a deal…other than Butters sucking him off. But the boy would probably wake up and freak out.

"So what happened? You kill your cat or something?" Cartman rolled his eyes.

Gage pushed his curls out of his eyes. "No." he said darkly. "I woke up, my pants were around my ankles and his head was in my lap." He almost hated to say what really happened, but Cartman would wriggle it out of him sooner or later. The large boy grinned, peering back into the room behind him as a pale form came down the stairs, ruffling up red hair.

"So our own innocent little Butters got a taste of cream, huh?" Cartman's face reminded Gage of a shark in mid-strike. "Please tell me you had the presence of mind to get pictures."

Gage growled. "Look, you fat little shit, I wanted to tell you when you sell pot to me, it had better be pure or I'm going somewhere else." He saw Cartman's expression grow dark.

"Call me fat one more time and I'll wrap you around a tree with your own intestines and leave you there for the birds." He hissed. "Besides, where are you going to go? Denver? Farther? Hah. I'm the only one around here that grows. It's not my problem, and it's not a bad thing. You obviously like the little shit, and he obviously likes you."

"Grows what?" A sleepy voice muttered from behind Cartman, pale arms wrapping around the boy's waist. For the second time, the door slammed shut in Gage's face. The goth boy rolled his eyes and turned away from the house. He needed to talk to someone…at least he'd had the presence of mind to leave Butters a note. Granted, it only said to stay in the room and keep the door locked, but at least it would keep him from meeting his parents, or worse, talking to them.

Gage leaned back his head, looking at the cloudy sky. It was time to look up Henrietta again.

He checked his pockets for bus money. Just enough to get to North Park and back before dark, not enough to take the bus all the way to her home. He'd have to walk at the bus stop near the North Park Mall, and even then he'd have to make it quick. Butters would get hungry or thirsty eventually, doubly so with the drugs flushing out of his system. He fiddled with the coins and walked up the street. He'd need to see if the morning buses were running at this hour if he wanted to get to her place in time.

____________

Butters rubbed at his eyes as he flushed the toilet. What had happened last night? His mouth tasted disgusting…like old socks, sweat and saliva. He needed to find something nice to drink. He needed something healthy to wash out the taste and rejuvenate himself. He had noticed a folded piece of paper by the nightstand but just figured it was a warning to keep hydrated or something. He smiled, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. It was nice to have someone worry about him.

He walked slowly down the stairs, yawning. His clothes stank like the weed they'd smoked last night. He crinkled his nose. It really did stink. Why did people smoke that awful stuff…it had made him see funny things, but he didn't remember most of them. Why did his mouth taste so awful? Did he lick the toilet high or something? God he was so stupid!

He padded into the kitchen, yawning and opening the refridgerator. He sighed and felt awful. Who did he think he was, looking into their fridge though he hadn't earned a bite of their food at all? He dug into his pockets, finding a few dollars. He tucked the crumpled bills under a fridge magnet and guiltily took a sip of orange juice from a large jug. It felt so good, cool sweetness hitting his tongue and encouraging him to drink more. He gave into the impulse and glugged several mouthfuls, nearly snorting the last gulp through his nose when he saw something enter the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

Butters hurriedly capped the juice and made to put it back into the fridge. "Sorry!" he managed to squeak.

"So you're the boy he's been hiding up there…keep it on the counter. I can smell the grass on you." A low, male voice said, emotionless and tired. Butters closed the fridge and set the jug on the counter, blushing to see the levels of juice were far lower than they had been when he pulled it out.

"I'm sorry, I forgot…I mean, I haven't met you yet. I saw you on the couch once…" Butters mumbled. "I'm awfully sorry Sir, It won't happen again or nothin'."

The man was scruffy, tall, with a patchy beard marred by stress and bags under his eyes. Gage had his nose and those patiently condescending eyes. Lines spread around his downturned mouth, and straight black hair was swept back and fuzzed up from sleeping on the couch. "Quit apologizing. The kid takes all he wants from us and gives nothing in return…why should you feel guilty for following his example?" the man muttered, grabbing the jug off of the counter. Butters could smell the acrid scent of alcohol, his gut twisting as he was reminded of the events that led him to stay here. He hung his head, looking at the tiled floor and forgetting he still held onto the fridge handle.

The man looked at him with soft blue eyes. "You have a look like a puppy." He sneered, shaking his head and drinking down the rest of the orange juice. He looked at the empty container and tossed it into the sink, sighing heavily and wiping his mouth. "Why were the medics here? You look fine to me."

Butters let go of the fridge, rubbing his arm with his other hand and refusing to look up. "I'll leave if you want, Sir. I'm sorry I overstayed my welcome." He said.

"I didn't say that. The kid wants you here, and fuck knows I don't have any authority in his house. It's the queen bitch and that little shit up there who run everything." Gage's father made an impatient gesture and sneered at the stairs. "She even brought her work up there. She refuses to even look at me anymore."

Butters tapped his knuckles together uncomfortably and shifted from foot to foot, listening but not saying a word. He knew to keep silent during these types of rants.

"So he's your lover, eh? I knew he was gay. Yet another strike toward his mother and me, not like we care." The man sighed miserably and sat down on a chair next to a disused card table. "I don't mind it. Never had a problem with it really…my roommate in college was gay." He smirked and shook his head, looking up to see Butters staring at his feet uncomfortably. "What's your name, kid?" he asked.

"M'name's Leopold, Sir, but uh…everyone calls me Butters. Butters Stotch, sir." Butters said.

"Butterscotch. Hah. Funny play on words. Little shits at school think up that one or did you name yourself?" He asked. "You can call me Nick."

"The boys at school called me that." Butters looked up at Nick, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Your eyes are red, and I can see your wrist bones from here. You need to eat something…well, you're welcome to anything in the fridge. Sorry about the rant, I had an argument with George's mother last night and I'm hungover." Nick said, shrugging.

"Who's George, sir?" Butters asked.

"Ah, that's right. He's renamed himself, like the rest of his dark little friends. What's he calling himself now? Gouge or something?" Nick asked.

"Gage." Butters corrected softly, smiling a bit. "He likes to be called Gage, sir."


	11. Escape to Hell

Risashootingstar – He's a bit more whipped…I don't think he just gives a shit anymore XD

Beyond-The-Limit – Does he act anything like my Nick? O.o Consider it a tribute then! Yay!

__________________

"So where the hell are your parents, kid?" Nick asked, rubbing at his face. He had lit a cigarette, making Butters want to both hold his breath and smile at the same time. It was quite a feat attempting both, and he failed miserably, coughing into his sleeve. Nick lifted the hand with the cigarette and looked at the stick, then tapped it out on the counter. "I should quit anyway…" he said quietly. "Sorry."

Butters shook his head. "I-It's your house, sir. I don't want to be a bother." He said. "My dad's gonna be awful sore at me if I don't get home soon…I feel like I've been intruding. I don't want to go back home. I'm gonna get hollered at for leaving. I ain't allowed to go runnin' off like some meth head. S'what my dad says."

"Your old man says a lot of stuff." Nick grumbled. "I guess you should get home before the bitch comes downstairs for her morning coffee, though." He flicked the cigarette butt into the sink, turning on the tap. "She'd throw a royal fit if she knew I let George have anyone over. He's failing in school, so she's made this house into some sort of fucking monastery. No friends or TV. I think it's because he wants to fail but hey, don't listen to me. I don't have any say in this house."

Butters shrugged. "I ain't allowed to watch TV. Eric only comes to see me when he wants to do somethin' awful, and he's been doin' a lot of awful things lately. The fellers don't really see me as one of the guys." He said. "Where's Gage, sir? I ain't seen him come down since we've been sittin' here and we've been in here for a long time, by golly."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Kid goes and comes when he wants to. I think I heard him leave before you got up. He should be back soon…he probably went out to the café down the road for some coffee. I don't blame him. I touch his mom's coffee grinder and she practically breaks my head with the pot." He said. "Don't worry about it. I'll call your dad and say you slept over here." Nick walked over to the cracked wall phone and plucked it off the receiver, not noticing Butters begin to grind his knuckles together and bite his lip.

"What the hell's your phone number anyway?" Nick turned rheumy eyes on Butters, who spat out the number like someone was shaking it from his vocal cords. What was his father going to say, disappearing for almost a week in this house? His bum still hurt and thinking of seeing that bloodstain on the carpet again made his stomach turn over and twist shut.

He saw Nick wince and his stomach unclenched slightly when he heard a familiar female voice. Oh God, his mom must have been worried sick!

"Yeah, he's staring at me right now." Nick said, pulling a cigarette out of a crumpled Malboro box and letting it hang unlit in his mouth. "Yeah. I'll send him home. He looks in pretty rough shape; I think some kids at school got to him or something. No, pretty sure it wasn't the Cartman kid. He'd be dead if that were the case." Nick sucked on the nicotine rich filter, sighing softly as the female voice blabbered on. He took the receiver down from his ear. "Might want to go grab your stuff." He mouthed at Butters. "She's coming over."

Butters shot out of the kitchen like Nick had burned his hind end, muffling a yelp and limping up the stairs. He'd almost forgotten about his wound; but at least he could run now. He grabbed Mr. Bear off of Gage's bed, hugging the stuffed animal close. He couldn't go home. No. Not with his father there. His mother wouldn't protect him; she had to support his dad. God, where could he go?

He grabbed Gage's black cell phone off of the nightstand, feeling horribly guilty. He'd pay Gage back for the minutes he used. He scanned through the numbers and wasn't surprised to see Eric Cartman on the list. He clicked the call button and held the phone up to his ear, squeezing his bear closer.

"Cartman/Broflovski residence?" Kyle's voice came through the phone. Butters blinked for a moment. He'd forgotten that Kyle lived with Eric now. He heard Eric yell something about people thinking Jews lived in his home. "Shut the hell up, fatass! You DO have a Jew living in your home!" Kyle yelled, making Butters wince and hold the phone away from his head.

"Uh, Kyle?" Butters ventured forth shyly.

"Oh, hey Butters. What's up? We haven't seen you at school." Kyle said. "That goth kid's been turning in your homework for the past few days, but your dad's going to freak out if your grades drop. I mean, you're starting to lag behind Cartman." The redhead said cheerfully.

"C-Can I stay with you fellers?" Butters asked, feeling shame creep into his voice.

"Sure, I don't care if you sleep over. Why?" Kyle asked, sounding a bit surprised. "Usually your dad doesn't let you have a lot of freedom, dude."

"I'm sorry for imposin' on you Kyle, but I can't go home." Butters voice shook slightly. "M-My dad did something real bad."

"Alright, come on over. We'll talk to you about it." Kyle said sympathetically. "I'll make the fatass make up a bed for you. This house is huge anyway. And we CAN accommodate you." Kyle's voice grew hard at the last sentence, giving Butters the impression that he was growling at someone in the background. Butters nodded and hung up, placing the phone exactly as it had been on the nightstand, and opening up the window.

__________________

"I didn't think I'd see any familiar faces in this dump." Henrietta purred, taking a drag off of her cigarette holder and looking at the small troupe of grim-faced goths behind her. "Buzz off, zombies." She said dismissively, waving her cigarette holder at them. They gave Gage suspicious looks, and slunk off into the lunchroom of the North Park high school like wolves. Gage watched them go, narrowing his eyes slightly and clenching his teeth a little tighter on his own cigarette.

"I need to talk to you, Henrietta." He said, wishing he had his cane in his hand. His fingers tightened in reflex. "I think I'm a bit over my head. It's the Stotch kid, Butters Stotch…is there anywhere we could speak in a bit more privacy? I don't want any of these stupid jocks overhearing anything."

Henrietta nodded and nodded her head to a corner of the parking lot. Gage followed her, feeling a bit of nostalgia creep up his spine. He hid a smile as Henrietta sat down, her skirts hiding her knife-slashed legs. "What is it?" she asked in her smoky, bored voice.

"He gave me a blowjob." Gage tried to keep his voice even, but he heard the self-satisfaction tinge his words. He sat down next to her, his legs in front of him. "He was high, but he's done a lot of odd things. He's kissed me to steal pot smoke out of my mouth, and sucked me off when he was high on a joint that was laced with acid."

Henrietta listened patiently. "Well, did you like it? I know I asked you out on a date once and you said no. Is this why?" she asked, still sounding bored, though Gage knew her interest by the amount of questions she was asking. Gage ran his fingers through his curly hair.

"I did. It was probably the best thing I've ever felt." Gage said. "I know I like both guys and girls, that's not an emotional issue for me. He's just too innocent. It's like he didn't know what he was doing. Like he had no idea. His dad raped him, Henrietta. Which is beyond fucked up."

"Course it would happen in a place like South Park. Fucking white trash bastards fucking their own poor spawn." Henrietta sneered in disgust, curling her lips around the cigarette holder. "Well that would have screwed his head up something nice. I can't give advice for this sort of shit…why come to me?"

Gage shrugged. "I can't talk to any of those Aberzombies at school. Not the fuckin' teachers. Who the hell else do I have to talk to? It's not like I don't want to get in Butters' pants, it's just I don't know if I should." He said.

"Lovely. You're not only a goth cliché, you're a fucking gay cliché now too." Henrietta sneered, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "Just get over yourself and tell him you like him, and see where it goes. It takes people a while to recover from rape, so just take it slow. That's all I got for you. I don't see why you had to take a fucking bus all the way here to figure that out."

"Maybe I just needed someone to say it out loud." Gage said, frowning. "What's the matter with you, anyway? Are these North Park fuckers wearing down your nerves or something?"

Henrietta shrugged. "They're annoying. As conformist as can be while still listening to our music and wearing our clothes. The chick steals my clothes for God's sake." She said in abject disgust, shivering slightly and standing. "Go on home and make sure he doesn't have to be alone, you dumb shit."

Gage nodded and let her get back to her troupe, grinding the cigarette to paper and dust in his mouth. He knew what she had been going to say…he just needed to hear her say it.

______________

"I can't have a wet blanket and a Jew under one roof, I'll go crazy! He's going to organize the fucking pantry and I'm still counting the china from your small stay." Cartman snarled, looking very much like a large, defensive bear pacing the living room. Kyle sat on the couch with Butters, his arm around the thin boy's shoulders.

"I don't give a shit what you think, he's staying here for a few days." Kyle said, obviously prepared to fight his lover on the point. He rubbed Butters' shoulders. "It's okay Butters, there's a room for you upstairs and you can stay as long as you want. Cartman, I don't want to hear anything out of you! You abused him so much when he was young. You owe him."

Cartman snorted and folded his arms. "If he touches anything…"

"He's not going to touch anything, you asshole!" Kyle snarled.

Eric looked from Kyle to Butters, who looked like he was about to cry.

"I can go, E-Eric, if you don't want me here or nothin'. Kyle said it was okay." Butters sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. He held his teddy bear tighter, rubbing the tear-stained fur with his fingers. Kyle patted his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. Kyle's green eyes met Cartman's hard brown ones, and Cartman looked down.

"Fine." Cartman said, but smirked. "So is it true you sucked your little vampire's dick when you two smoked grass?" Even as he said it Cartman knew it was a mistake to bring it up. Kyle's eyes blazed with anger and he stood up, bringing Butters with him.

"Cartman that's enough. Look, go upstairs Butters and I'll get you some soup. It's Cartman's old room, alright? You should know." Kyle said gently, pushing Butters up the stairs and leaving him to go to Cartman. "Cartman, you leave him alone. He's hurt. I love you, but you need to stop torturing him. It's about time you started becoming a decent human being." Kyle said, tempted to shake off Cartman's arms as the boy pulled him close.

"Mm now why would I want to behave? You tryin' to become a rabbi, Jew?" he snaked his hand down and grabbed Kyle's rear, making the redhead squeak and slap his cheek gently.

"No, but as long as he's here you're going to have to be nice to him." Kyle said, kissing Cartman's forehead.

"Scout's honor." Cartman sneered.


	12. Black Is Better

UnicornsRKickass – Thank you! And yes, Unicorns do in fact, kick ass

RisaShootingStar- I do think they bicker like an old married couple sometimes. XD

Undead-Reject – He denies it! XD Kyle is a mother hen. He does seem to comfort others when Stan, Kenny and Cartman don't give a fuck.

Mystery. – Er… I update when I feel inspired I guess. I'm so sorry I haven't been updating a lot, but school is flipping nuts and I've got a small Hitler obsession going on…

HelloRonnieKitty – Rammstein is the shit.

iDweebilicious – You must have some microscopic vision there. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and took the time to write a review!

Ok, first, apologies to the readers of this story, and ESPECIALLY A Personal Paradox. I did state that APP was going to be a side project, and thus fewer updates, but I can't believe I'm this horrid at it. Please, please kick my ass. ~hugs readers~ Also, I'm going to start an honest-to-god Downfall fanfic next featuring…duh duh duuuh…Goebbels and Himmler…because I like them, and I freaking feel like it.

Love you all,

Rig

* * *

"Butters?" Kyle rapped his knuckles on the door to Cartman's old room. The two had converted it to a guest room with Cartman's old bed, new sheets, and a new coat of paint. Cartman had angrily protested making the room a deep, dark red until Kyle came home one day to find a giant (though straight) white stripe right through the middle of all the walls. He also hadn't figured out that the Hitler Youth Emblem was hidden in the closet until he opened it to put in new racks. Kyle opened the door slowly with one hand, a tray of soup and crackers in the other. He knew Butters didn't eat well.

But Butters was safe here. The boy was sitting on the bed, fiddling with his hands, but didn't seem to have moved from that spot. "Oh, h-hey Kyle." Butters looked up and chewed his lip. "Why's this room all stripey?"

Kyle smiled and put the tray down on the bed, hopping up next to Butters. "Cartman's attempt at showing me what rooms I am and am not welcome in. He's still paranoid about the damn basement, like he's hiding bodies down there or something. I got rid of most of his propaganda, which is probably why he painted the room. He was furious." He said, picking up the bowl of soup and setting it on Butters' lap. "Cholent. It's good for you. I want you to eat the whole thing, and tell me what's going on."

Butters stared down into the thick, brown broth, stirring it around with a spoon. "Kyle…do you get stoned with Eric?" he asked quietly. Silence.

He raised his head to see the other boy giving him a critical look. "No. I don't take drugs." Kyle said. "Why, do you? Who with?"

"I…uh…I smoke marijewanna with Gage sometimes." Butters said. "I dunno where he gets it. But last time I…uh. I did somethin' bad. I did oral sex on him." He blushed and spooned a small mouthful of soup into his mouth.

"Go ahead, it's not bad." Kyle teased. "So that's what Cartman was talking about. It's alright, you don't think I'm a monk up here, do you? I do things with Cartman every night."

"Kyle, no offense or nothin', but I don't wanna picture you and Eric." Butters said softly. "My dad says it ain't right at all to be doing stuff like that." He shoveled another spoonful in to avoid awkward silence.

"Your dad is an uptight prick, Butters." Kyle said sternly. "Homosexuality is just fine. If you like Gage, go for it. But you did say something about your dad doing something horrible…what happened? I guarantee if it's something bad me and Cartman will be on his ass."

"Like the SS on a moneylender!" Cartman shouted gleefully from down the hall.

Kyle scowled. "Excuse me." He slid off the bed and slammed the door shut, then reclaimed his place next to Butters, stealing one of the boy's crackers. He bit into it and was about to start chewing when he noticed soft, clear drops falling into the soup. "Hey…" Kyle chewed quickly, swallowed and set the cracker aside. "Jesus was it that bad?" He took the soup off of Butters' lap and set it on the tray, pulling the boy toward him.

Butters was sobbing, but not badly enough to make the word he choked out unintelligible.

Kyle's eyes hardened. "When was this? Butters? Have you gone to the police?" he asked. "Rape is a crime! Are you alright? Does Gage know?" He heard the door click open.

"I heard rape." Cartman poked his head into the room.

"Get out of here, fatass!" Kyle snarled, holding Butters tightly as the boy spilled out the story. How he had been visited by the paramedics, how they'd cleaned him up, staying at Gage's...when it was done Cartman looked entertained and Kyle looked disgusted.

"I can't believe he'd do something like that…his own child!" Kyle rubbed Butters' back. "Look, stay with us as long as you want. Cartman, do you have some clothes he can wear?"

"No way, Jew."

"I've ripped them off you enough times! God! Go to his house and get his clothes." Kyle growled. "I can't believe you!"

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Fine. Butters, is that second floor window still loose?" he asked. "I'll get the crowbar." He scuttled off quickly under Kyle's fiery gaze. Kyle pushed the soup back into Butters' hands.

"You're staying here. I'll tell Gage where you're at, but I'm also going to tell the police what happened to you." Kyle said. "Your father needs to be brought to justice. If Officer Barbrady's not going to listen to me, I'll go to the State." He kissed Butters' forehead. "Are you hurt now?"

Butters shook his head.

"Then please eat, alright? You're as thin as a twig." Kyle hugged Butters tightly. "Don't worry, me and Cartman will get your stuff. Is there anything extra you want? Anything."

"…Can you get my Hello Kitty Island Adventures?" Butters whimpered.

Kyle smiled and nodded, patting Butters' shoulder. "Of course, Butters." He slid off the bed. "When you feel like you want to go to bed come find me and I'll give you some pajamas if he won't let us have your stuff."

________________

"Right. As a Jew, I know you know the finer points of thievery, but you lack tact. It's what got you into trouble sixty years ago." Cartman said, hands behind his back, the crowbar concealed. They stood in front of the Stotch residence, Kyle in his normal clothes and Cartman wearing black. "The thing is, you don't ASK Mr. Stotch for anything. You take it. Have you got the ladder's location?" he asked Kyle.

"Cartman. This does not have anything to do with your anti-Semitism. " Kyle glowered. "Please. Just get the stupid ladder from the side of his house and open the stupid window. Throw Butters' stuff down to me. He says he's got an athletic bag up there from when he used to tap dance."

"If you think I can fit through that window now you're nuts. I haven't been able to since I shoved that flashlight up his ass when he was sleeping in eighth grade." Cartman said snootily. Kyle stared.

"You what?!"

"I used morphine first, Jesus Kahl, you're acting like I haven't drugged anyone before. Now go get the ladder like a good Jew." Cartman waggled his fingers at Kyle dismissively. Kyle sighed and kissed his cheek, shaking his head as he snuck around the side of the house.

"This is going to get us into so much trouble, Cartman. This is breaking and entering." Kyle said as he carefully leant the steel ladder against the side of the house. He winced at the clattering noises it was making, but thankfully the window it was standing in front of had the curtains drawn. "Alright, hold the ladder, I'm going to climb up." Kyle said. "Give me the crow-Cartman! Get away from the window, they'll see us!" he dropped his voice to a loud hiss, gesturing wildly at Cartman. The other boy was knelt in front of the living room window, peering at Mr. and Mrs. Stotch.

"There's a huge bloodstain on the carpet." Cartman hissed. "Even some on the couch, but it's faded. Butters wasn't lying."

"Of course he wasn't lying, his dad is a sadistic asshole! Grab the fucking ladder, douchebag!" Kyle hissed angrily. Cartman waddled back under the window's field of vision and stood up, handing Kyle the crowbar. "Only use it if it's stuck." Cartman instructed, holding the legs of the ladder steady.

Kyle nodded and climbed slowly up the ladder, the crow bar in one hand. He reached Butters' window and swallowed thickly. He was around twenty feet up…God this would be a bad fall if he got startled. He grabbed the window, working his fingernails under the wood and grunting as he pushed it up. It squeaked once, stuck, and opened. "Alright, I don't think I need the crowbar. Can I throw it down?" Kyle whispered. Cartman shook his head fervently.

"If you crack my head open, you fall, Jew." He hissed back.

Kyle nodded and slid inside Butters' room, laying the crowbar down on the boy's desk and quickly spotting the baby-blue athletic bag. He grabbed it and ripped open Butters' drawers, stuffing underwear, pants, rather girly tops and socks into it. He cleaned out most of the drawers, making sure he got all the underwear and socks. Pants and tops could be rotated if necessary, and they took up more room.

He spotted the Hello Kitty CD case and opened it, frowning to find the CD not in there. He threw the case in the bag, zipped it up, and snatched Butters' pillow. He had to boot up the computer to get the disc, apparently. He risked tossing the pillow out the window to Cartman below and pushed the on button on the tower of Butters' computer.

"WELCOME TO WINDOWS!" The speakers shouted enthusiastically, playing the start-up noise so loudly Kyle felt like his heart would stop. Footsteps on the stairs. He jammed his finger on the button to open the disc drive and ripped the pink CD from the tray right as the door opened.

"What the-Kyle Broflovski?! What the hell are you doing in my house young man?!" Steven shouted, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Kyle looked from Steven to the athletic bag and grabbed it, hurling it out the window. An angry shout from below told him he'd hit Cartman. "You're stealing, you little shit?" Steven charged.

Kyle yelped, but the man beat him to the window. Steven swung a punch, but Kyle ducked and ran, the CD clenched in his hand. He tore out of Butters' room and down the stairs, Steven hot on his heels. He ignored Linda's shocked look from the living room couch, burst out of the door and took to the street. Cartman grabbed the bag and pillow as soon as he saw Steven, red with rage, burst out of the house looking about ready to kill someone.

"Jesus Christ Kahl!" Cartman swore, his legs pumping as fast as they could possibly carry him after his red-haired lover.

"Shut the fuck up, Cartman!" Kyle screamed, high on fear and adrenaline.

"I'm never doing this shit again with you!" Cartman shouted again. "Next time I'm taking a nigger!"

_________________

Gage was about to turn the key in the lock to his house when two figures tore down the street. One was thin, red hair streaming out of a green hat. The other was running quickly out of breath and rather heavyset. Kyle and Cartman? Gage scowled. "What the fuck are those two grade-zombies up to…" he muttered, pulling the key out of the lock and sticking it in his pocket.

He walked slowly down the street after the burglarizing pair, a frown etched on his face. Somehow, he knew it had something to do with the cute little blonde he'd been hiding away in his room for the past week.


	13. Twisting the System

HOLEE BALLS I've never had so many reviews for one chapter!

MVstalker – You read that book too, eh? XD I loved it. Thank you for reviewing, I've always liked background characters.

Necrophile - ?! Someone drew fanfiction for this piece and didn't email the link to me? I feel insulted. To be honest, I signed up for Ygallery just to find it but…alas…no dice.

Trulybliss08 – On the contrary, you just don't make very good house thieves. ~pats back~

Epic Awsome- Well this isn't exactly quick but I try!

– Thank you! I seem to be converting a lot of people to Kycart and Butters pairings.

Risashootingstar – Nah, he's not psychic. If someone asks me about drugs out of the blue, I immediately start suspecting things.

Mystery. - ~hugs tight~ thank you so much!

UnicornsRKickass – My dad pronounces it the same way…so funny. And er… I didn't know that, so Kyle didn't XD my bad.

HelloRonnieKitty – He does. Jews. ~shakes head~

~pant pant~

iDweebilicious – A sniper? Oh f- (kidding, 4chan joke.) Thank you! I love replying to reviews, it makes me seem like less of an insensitive dick writing chapters. XD.

Undead-Reject – Dankishen!

Cyanide13 – oh, Mrs. Stotch knows its going on. I mean, she didn't seem to be asking about the bloodstains, eh?

Good lord, now to the story!

* * *

"Never….again…"

"Are you still out of breath, Cartman? Serves you right for skipping all those soccer practices to go get KFC, you mooch." Kyle chuckled as they stepped inside the house, kissing Cartman's cheek. Cartman simply raised a choice fnger and staggered over to go plop on the couch. Kyle smiled and set the bag down on their coffee table, sitting next to his lover and putting his arms around him. He playfully rested his chin on Cartman's broad chest. "You weren't very brave today, Commandant." He teased.

"Shut it, Jew." Cartman's heart was thumping fast. He was getting a bit better in the fitness department. Still nothing to write home about. Kyle was terrified he'd get a heart attack one day. "I was braver than you were." He heard the large boy mumble, a broad hand tracing mindless little patterns on Kyle's stomach. "Gorgeous little shit."

Kyle looked up when he heard the stairs groan. Years of suffering under Cartman's girth had given the stairs a particular groan. "Butters?" He asked softly, seeing the blond boy peek around the corner of the stairwell with his tray in hand. Kyle pushed Cartman's hand away, noticing that Butters' eyes were being drawn to the meaty fingers roaming lower on Kyle's waist. Cartman gave an angry grunt and tucked his arm against his belly.

"I finished." Butters said meekly, holding out the tray in explanation.

"Good. Now fuck off and find somewhere else to stay. You're interfering with my sex life." Cartman bared his teeth at Butters, seeing the blond boy cringe and hold the tray closer to his chest. Kyle glared and reached a clenched hand down to Cartman's crotch, squeezing hard.

"We are GLAD. To have you." Kyle growled under his breath, releasing Cartman's balls long enough to get up and take Butters' tray. Kyle was spared an angry tirade by the pain-crippled racist when their door opened to reveal a thin figure wreathed in smoke.

"So this is where you've been at." Gage purred in his gravelly voice, walking forward and hugging Butters tightly. "Why did you run from my house? I was frightened your father had gotten you, you little pussy." He patted his cheek and earned a meek smile from Butters.

"Speaking of that, we need to start planning." Kyle said, rubbing his lover's shoulder apologetically as Cartman squeaked and held his precious genitalia in pain. Cartman mumbled numerous insults in a strained voice.

"P-planning?" Butters asked, almost losing himself in Gage's arms. The feeling of those skeletal appendages around him…it was comforting. Not overpowering like Cartman or controlling like his father. It just seemed to ask a returning hug. Butters did so gladly. Mr. Bear was nothing compared to Gage's warmth, even though Mr. Bear didn't smell anything like tobacco.

"Revenge." Gage said quietly. "I'm not going to let some sadistic Jeffrey Dahmer wanna-be go running wild in South Park. He deserves to pay for what he did to you." He breathed in his cigarette smoke deeply, ignoring Kyle waving his hand in front of his face. Butters looked at the carpet, resting his head on Gage's chest. Everyone was telling him that what had happened hadn't been right. He had been scared, and his father had hurt him. But should they really go after him? It was, after all, his father's right to hurt him wasn't it? He had brought him into this world.

"Fellas…can't we forget what happened?" he asked quietly. Butters knew it was the wrong question to ask when he saw the faces of the other three. "I-It's his right. I'm his son. I-I….uh…" he shifted away from Gage and shifted on the carpet, grinding his knuckles together.

"Jesus what did he do to you…" Kyle said, more pity in his voice now than ever.

"Fucking brainwashed him." Cartman growled. "Butters your dad has always been an asshole, and we're going to kill him whether you like it or not. Him and that doormat you call a mother. How the hell they gave birth to a wet blanket like you I'll never know."

"Cartman!" Kyle growled. "Please. Butters…think about it. Has your dad ever made you happy? Truly happy?" He asked, rising and taking Butters' hands in his. "Has there been a day where he let you have a full meal? He didn't even let you have school lunches half the time."

Butters squeezed Kyle's hands gently. There hadn't been a day where he had been truly, freely happy in a very long time. An almost imperceptible amount of time. There were days where his father brought him ice cream or took him out somewhere, or let him have a toy. But it always seemed so hollow, like his father was fulfilling a duty. Not because he wanted to, because he felt he needed to. Perhaps they were right? He felt so happy with Gage.

He felt like he could be himself, and…he didn't have anything to hide from him. Gage had seen him at his worst, at rock bottom. He had bared his soul to the other boy and been stripped of all the bullsilliness. "He has never made me happy…" Butters admitted, looking at Gage. "…you have."

Gage raised an eyebrow, allowing himself a small smile.

"Alright, let's poison the fucker." Cartman spoke up.

* * *

"Yes, Officer Barbrady. It was Eric Cartman and Kyle Broflovski." Steven said calmly, extending his cut arm for the EMT to take care of. "They slashed my arm with a knife and left the house with my son's belongings…he's still missing." He was oddly calm, but had made sure the blood dripped onto the carpet where he had raped Butters. It would not do for the hospital technicians to come and see the old blood. They would have to assume now, that it came from a vicious attacked by two troubled young boys.

The evidence was good as destroyed now. The knife he had used to cut himself was cleaned and back in the kitchen drawer, and the bloodstain was now safely tied to a well-known drug dealer and his disgusting little lover. He had been nervous up until now. "Well, I'll see what I can do but I don't know of anyone who deals drugs." Barbrady scratched his head, disturbing his dark glasses and setting them askew on his head.

"Eric Cartman." Steven growled. "He has been dealing drugs in his town for years."

"Really?" Barbrady asked curiously.

"Yes."

"Well I suppose I better go arrest them then." Barbrady said. "Move along, nothing to see here." He pushed at the EMTs, who glared at him angrily and shoved him off, continuing to sew up the long, ragged cut on Steven Stotch's arm. The fat, clueless officer waddled out of the Stotch residence, looking back and forth across the street. "Where is the Cartman residence again?" he called back into the house.


	14. Bad Case of the Blues

Ok, this is apparently what I get for not updating in a while. Sorry! XD I love you all, and I haven't forgotten about you!

Trulybliss08 – XD Like the fuzz in that town are threatening

Risashootingstar – You know, there are a lot of decaffeinated brands on the market that are just as tasty as the real thing. Love you.

NotebookChen – Sounds weirdly like some pseudo-punk song, amirite?

Tatsukitty – Thank you for the link to the fanart! I feel so proud 3

Necrophile – Danke!

Beyond-The-Limit – Moar fanart? Yay!

iDweebilicious – I love you too, so much.

Mystery. – Butters father is evil as hell. I mean, he doesn't seem to be in the show, but when you think about it he really is an evil fuck.

Undead-Reject – Even if they do involve death a lot of the time.

HelloRonnieKitty – Ah, Barbrady…such a dumb shit. We love him though.

Little Loki – Will do!

Cyanide13 – Blood and vinegar! ~clenches cigar in teeth~ to war we go!

* * *

"Alright people there's nothing to see here. I just need to look in your house Mrs. Cartman and I'll be on my way."

Kyle stared back in the black, pilot's sunglasses cluelessly. "Uh, Officer Barbrady, can I ask what this is about?" he asked, slipping out of the house before Cartman got a chance to speak up and shutting the door behind him. He hoped that the police had finally gotten back to them about the rape case, but he'd prefer Butters didn't hear it all the same. His lover would probably make some hideous comment as well. He wanted to spare Butters that.

"Well Liane you're in big trouble. Seems you've been in possession of some drug paraphernalia." Barbrady said in his flat, clueless tone, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Officer Barbrady…it's Kyle. Kyle Broflovski from down the street. You came to my barmitsvah." Kyle reminded the man in front of him. God, couldn't South Park afford to at least hire another officer to keep this guy in the desk and not on the streets? Barbrady caused more harm than good half the time, and even though he was getting older he still didn't have any idea what went on. "Remember?" Kyle prodded him, trying to get the policeman to remember who he was. As if the lack of tits and alcohol couldn't do that.

"Oh, I'm sorry Kyle. Am I at the wrong house?" Barbrady asked. "Steven Stotch told me this was the right address. Well, I've got to go find Liane and bring her to justice. You shouldn't be in drug houses like that, Kyle. Move along."

Kyle sighed. "Officer Barbrady..." he began, but the man was already down the steps and toddling off down the road, leaving his car parked in front of the Cartman residence. Kyle watched him go, hoping he would turn around and remember where he left his cruiser, but it seemed that Barbrady was perfectly happy to wander off and forget where he was again. Ah well, he'd find his way to the coffee shop again soon enough. The smell of donuts was always enough to bring the officer around…as conscious as Barbrady could be, at least. The mention of drugs did bring up some suspicions. So Mr. Stotch was trying to get them out of the way by pinning phony drug charges on them?

What if Kyle hadn't answered the door? Would Barbrady have arrested Cartman? He dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his mind. Cartman would have sooner killed the officer and hid the body than be arrested by a retard. In his own words, of course. Kyle ruffled up his hair and opened the door, slipping back inside the Cartman home.

"W-why were the police here? Are we in trouble?" Butters asked nervously. He was seated on the couch, cuddled up next to Gage. Cartman had abandoned his favourite seat on the enlongated piece of furniture to claim the carpet. He obviously didn't want to be sitting next to the lovebirds, even though in Kyle's opinion it was a very innocent love.

"No, no. Apparently your dad tried to get Barbrady to arrest Cartman." Kyle said, sitting down next to his lover. "It's nothing to be worried about, I doubt Barbrady will even remember he was here by the time he circles around to the coffee shop."

"That fat shit couldn't arrest a limbless cat." Cartman sneered. "These two assholes want to go it alone, Jew. They told me while you were messing with Captain Retard out there." He jerked a thumb at the couple on the couch. Gage defiantly put out his cigarette on the coffee table, which made Cartman's hackles raise.

"I think it's important that we do this alone, Cartman." Gage told him. "It means nothing if we pull something on Butters' father and he stays completely out of it. He has to want to do it, he has to do it for his own private reasons. It's going to spiral out of control quickly if we leave you to it."

Butters slid his hand into Gage's, chewing his lip nervously. Cartman seemed awful angry that he wasn't going to get to hurt his dad. He wasn't even sure he could do it! He owed the man so much for raising him and taking time out of his busy schedule to look at such a hideous creation. He was still puzzled as to why Gage could stand him when his own father clearly couldn't.

"I understand. We'll supply you with whatever you need, but please don't kill him. Killing is wrong, no matter what they've done. Revenge is fine if it gets him caught by the state police or well and truly sorry, but I don't approve of actually killing him." Kyle said gently. "Butters, whatever you do you'll live with it for the rest of your life. So please, all I'm asking is that you two think about this."

Cartman gave a derisive snort and folded his arms, pouting. "Of course the Jew wants to forgive and forget. I'll give you whatever I can if you do one thing for me." He held up a pudgy finger. "If you do get the feds sniffing around this town, don't you dare direct them to this house. Alright? I know how to get out of jail, and I won't hesitate to put an end to you or your-" he yelped and held his side, wincing. "Kaaaaahl…" he whimpered, giving his red-haired lover a pitiful look.

The Jew retracted his elbow and frowned. "You should be ashamed of yourself." He snapped at Cartman, and then turned a soft expression on the two. "Take time to plan this. A few days. You can use the basement if you need to. Butters, you're welcome to stay in Cartman's room. Gage, if you want you can call your parents and you can stay with us too until this is over with….have you two thought about where Butters is going to go if you do get his father thrown in prison?"

"Kaaahl…that hurt you evil little Jew." Cartman whimpered, but hardened when he saw his pleas for attention weren't garnering any pity. "The Jew's right. His mom's a sycophant. She wouldn't accept him back in the house."

"I think my dad will let him stay with us." Gage said, kissing the top of Butters' head.

"You mean it? I can stay with you?" Butters asked, looking up at the curly haired goth in surprise. "I-I didn't think you'd want anything to do with me. I'm a wet blanket." He looked down at his hands, grinding his knuckles together until Gage put his hand over Butters'.

"I like wet blankets." Gage said softly. "You're staying with me." He allowed himself a small, thin-lipped smile down at the boy. Butters gave a bright-eyed smile of delight, something that hadn't come out in a very long time, and wrapped his arms around Gage's waist. He buried his face in the goth's clothing, shutting his eyes and curling up. Gage was a bit surprised…but Butters had always been affectionate. Like a little blonde cat. "You can sleep with me, in my room. There's plenty of space." Gage told him.

"Great, so when is he moving out?" Cartman growled, but scooted away from Kyle when he saw the Jew raise an elbow to strike his ribs again. "Jesus why are you always so pissy when other people are around Kahl? Your Jew gold is safe, you don't have to be all defensive." He snapped.

"You know damn well it's because you're being rude." Kyle replied. "Do you have any supplies you need right off? Or do you at least have a rough idea of how you're going to get him caught?" The Jew asked the cuddling couple. They were cute snuggled together like that. So much more innocent than the relationship he and Cartman had. Though with the Neo-Nazi, did he expect anything different?

"I'd sign the bastard up for a Doctor Marten Dental Plan if you know what I'm saying." Cartman grumbled.

"Eric, his teeth are okay. My mom got him caps a few years ago cause she says his teeth were gettin' real ugly." Butters piped up from the couch, earning Eric's burning gaze.

"I didn't mean a real dental plan you dumb shit. I mean knocking his teeth out with a ten-eyelet, steel-toed boot on a curb somewhere!" Cartman snapped. Butters cringed, withdrawing back a ways into Gage's lap. "Whatever. Call us when you get an idea of what you need. I've got explosives, poisons, and I know how to get into the Stotch house better than Butters does." Cartman continued, dodging another elbow blow from his lover. "Quit it, Kahl!"

"Alright. I'll get home and start on my dad. He's going to take some convincing to get a new person moved into the house." Gage said, gently untangling Butters and standing. Butters stood, standing slightly behind him like a child behind his mother.

"What about your mom?" Butters asked.

"She barely notices me anyway, Butters. She won't notice a new face in the house for years. If she crawls out of her pill bottle and does notice you, fuck her. It will be too late anyway." Gage replied, putting his arms around Butters and giving him a light peck on the lips. Butters happily, though sloppily, kissed the side of his mouth back.

"Alright, now get the fuck out of my house for a few hours! I've got blue balls the size of Rhode Island and bruised ribs, and if I'm going to help you little fuckers I want a few hours of quality time with the Jew-bitch to show for it!" Cartman snarled at the both of them. Gage smirked and nuzzled Butters' nose with his own.

"Why don't we both go talk to my father?" he asked quietly, holding Butters in his arms. He didn't want to let the kid go. Those big aqua eyes were swallowing him up, and he was more than happy to fall into them. Butters may be naive, but when he loved he loved hard. They were so similar in that regard, but Gage loved very seldom. Butters was the first person to capture him like this. Hopefully it wouldn't end as badly as his parents' marriage did.

Butters nodded, smiling. "Okay. Eric's getting a little angry anyways." He said. "He should go lay down. My dad says a few hours in bed works out just fine for his."


	15. A Private Housewarming

I have not forgotten about this story. What happened over the last few months was that I got pneumonia, my grandmother died, I got evicted (and lost internet), and school was pressing down on me the entire time. Now I've got a new apartment, I'm getting better and I feel like writing. So let's get this story finished! I'm sorry, I won't reply to reviews this time because I know there are about a dozen comments by now. Just know that I love you all, and there will be some hotness in this chapter.

Rig

"So…" Nick took a long, slow drag of the cigarette as he looked at the two across the table, his eyes bleary and looking wholly disinterested…as usual. "….what you're telling me is the kid's father is abusing him, so he wants to stay here? With us and your mother?" he asked, looking at Gage. He set the cigarette into a nearby tray to let it smoke. They were all seated at the kitchen table, Gage with his fingers entwined in Butters' on the cracked plastic tabletop. Butters was trying not to cough at Nick's smoking, but it was obvious the man needed something to cope with what was going on. "And you're asking my permission?" Nick added, slight disbelief creeping into his voice as if he couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. "You never ask me permission." Now his tone was suspicious.

"Nick….Dad…he doesn't have anywhere else to go. He's been living with Cartman and Kyle for the past day or so." Gage said, rubbing his thumb across the top of Butters' knuckles. He felt Butters shiver happily under the contact and smiled to himself. He was so naïve. He did it again just to feel Butters' body shudder next to him. Big aqua eyes gave him a questioning, almost fearful look. "I've got room in my bedroom and mom doesn't care, you know that." Gage pressed. Nick squeezed his eyes shut and put his head in his hands, winding his fingers through his hair and clutching gently at his scalp.

"So this isn't a request." He mumbled. "You're going to do it whether or not I give you permission. Fine, whatever. Just promise me you're going to get a job or something soon to support him. God knows I have to keep feeding the anti-depressant zombie upstairs." Nick's voice was barely audible, his face was down at the table. Butters was distinctly reminded of Stan Marsh around finals week. Did this poor man ever get a break? "I'm not the man of the house, clearly."

Butters nervously reached out a hand and patted the top of Nick's head. He couldn't reach the man's thin shoulders and patting his cheek just seemed weird. "I'll clean the house and do all the chores." Butters said reassuringly. Nick gave a disgruntled, disbelieving snort and waved his hand at them. "Go ahead, move in. Do what you want. Throw a housewarming party." He mumbled.

"Thanks, Dad." Gage stood and gently pulled his concerned blonde away from the table and up the stairs. Butters kept looking back to the kitchen, where Nick hadn't moved from his rather depressing posture in the last few minutes.

"Hey. It's alright. He's been like that ever since the separation." Gage said gently, kissing Butters' hand. There was more than a shiver this time. He felt a barely audible gasp. "You're sensitive." Gage teased, a mischievious light in his eyes as he kissed up Butter's arm. When he reached his shoulder Butters began to blush, and when lips touched a small area between his throat and shoulder Butters let out a soft moan that made Gage's pants tight. "Come in the room with me." He whispered into Butter's ear, pressing their bodies together. He captured the blonde's earlobe in his lips and heard a whimper of assent. He stepped away from Butters, still holding his hand, and pulled him into the black room, shutting the door behind them. His lips met Butters' again and he wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, pushing their hips together. Butters awkwardly put arms around his neck and kissed him back shyly. Gage wanted more from the shy little waif. He pressed Butters' back against a poster of Edward Scissorhands and pushed his hips against the blonde's. Butters squeaked when their erections slid against one another through their clothing.

Gage growled deeply, kissing Butters' lips a little more roughly. He felt Butters cringe a bit from the harsh kisses and forced himself to return to small pecks on his mouth. Butters didn't like being roughly handled, that was evident, and Gage wanted to distance himself as much as possible from the harsh evil of what had happened to his blonde beauty. His hips stopped pushing and just rocked gently against Butters. Butters rested his head on Gage's shoulder, his heartbeat fluttering like a hummingbird and his cheeks red. Gage took one of his hands off Butters' hips and slid it between them, his fingers finding the outline of his lover's member and rubbing it lovingly. Butters melted into his arms, hips quaking.

"Ah…ah…" Butters whimpered against his ear with each stroke. Gage moved his hand faster and Butters' cries grew louder. God, his little blonde was about to cum in his pants. Gage felt a bit predatorial, like a hawk with a particularly juicy pigeon. He wanted Butters like this, naked and writhing on his bed. "Come here." Gage whispered. He pulled his hand away from between Butters' legs and slid both of them around his rear, picking his lover up. Butters squeaked and the arms around his neck were suddenly supporting weight, not that Butters had much to weigh him down with. Gage set his lover on the edge of the bed, their lips meeting again. God this room was hot. Gage pulled away for a few seconds, wrestling out of his metal shirt and throwing it aside.

He knew Butters wasn't ready to be made love to. He was wary of doing anything with that area after Butters' last experiences, but perhaps…there was another way. He gently pushed Butters on his back on the bed, sliding his hand up the other boy's shirt to play with a nipple. The response he got shocked him. Butters yelped and his hips bucked, his eyes opened wide and he grabbed the bed. "Sensitive?" Gage joked, kissing his neck. Butters nodded emphatically as his lover rolled the shirt up. The blond raised his arms compliantly, the cloth sliding over his head and giving Gage access to Butters' creamy skin. Gage's lips were everywhere, kissing his collarbone, his chest, his stomach. Butters felt delirious when a mouth latched onto his left nipple and a wet flame lapped over it, making him cry out.

Gage's hands were at his waist, undoing his pants and sliding them over frightfully thin thighs. Butters raised his legs instinctively and wrapped them around Gage. Hips moved against him, clothed in chained pants. Butters hissed and moved his sensitive member away. "Sorry." Gage muttered, his black fingernails flying to his own zipper and undoing the contraptions with ease. The goth held the boy in his arms, chest laying against chest, their members only kept from meeting by a few millimeters of underwear. Butters reached up a hand and slid it through his lover's inky curls, his mouth parted to emit soft sighs of pleasure. "I know I can't be inside of you yet…" Gage said above him, his hands stroking the prominent ridges of Butters' ribs. "…you're not ready. But you can be inside of me." His eyes met the large blue ones, trying to detect Butters' feelings. He saw the unabashed eagerness of a virgin, shy reluctance, and confusion.

"How..?" Butters asked breathily. His skin felt so hot to the touch, his legs wrapped around the other boy's waist. He wanted Gage to touch him again, to stroke him and make him feel like he was falling. "Touch me…" Butters whispered bravely, and Gage was all too happy to slide his hand between their hips.

"I want something better…this…inside of my body." Gage spoke gently into Butters' ear, licking the shell of soft skin and cartilage. He was nervous as well…if Butters complied it would be his first time too. He could also sense that if he kept rubbing Butters like this then the boy was going to cum without him ever seeing what it would be like. He pulled his hand away, grasping Butters' hip and rolling them over on the bed. Butters grasped him, surprised to find himself on top of Gage. Gage smirked and guided Butters to sit up on his knees for a moment, struggling out of his boxers and throwing them aside. He got a chance to look at his little Adonis for a moment. Butters' lips were red from kissing, his blonde hair tousled from being played with, his skin was flushed, and his erection was poking innocently out from a pair of soft blue underwear. Gage licked his lips and his fingers went to Butters' waist, pulling it down to reveal those last few square inches of flesh. His finger pads slid over Butters' rear and he gave an unconscious groan. God, no wonder he'd caught Cartman staring hungrily at Butters a few years ago. He had a round, tight, soft rear that any man would give a testicle to plunge into. But this wasn't the time for it, he noted regretfully. Butters' father had ruined that beautiful little part of Butters, and the younger boy wasn't ready for that part to be explored again yet.

Butters looked down at his lover. He loved Gage so much…the way he was touching him was setting him on fire. Black fingernails stroked his hips and revealed all of him, and he had to fight to keep from covering his…his thing up. Gage seemed more than happy to see it…his dark eyes lit up and he kissed Butters again. Gage's body was so beautiful, so much prettier than his own. Skin the colour of rag paper, long black lashes, curly hair that fell over part of his face. He smiled softly and kissed Gage back. It felt nice to be naked on the large, black bed, fingers exploring each others' bodies and rubbing against one another. But he felt a small sense of impatience. Gage wanted something from him, and hamburgers if Butters couldn't figure it out.

"W-what do you mean by me inside of you?" he asked curiously, earning a smile and a kiss from Gage. The other boy twisted his body away from him and rooted through a nightstand, coming up with a bottle of KY. Butters blinked at the sight of it and tried to get a good look at the package.

Gage smirked at him. Butters was so innocent! He'd never seen a bottle of KY before, at all? He squirted some onto his fingers and let the other boy see the tube. Butters read it curiously for a moment and nearly dropped it when Gage's wet, slimy fingers wrapped around his member and began stroking it wetly. Butters gasped and his eyes grew twice as wide, watching Gage's hand slide up and down his length. The wetness had been cold, very cold at first but after a few seconds it warmed and the feelings became astonishing. "Ah…Gage…oh God…" Butters whined and pushed his hips into Gage's hand. Whatever this stuff was, it was heavenly. So much better than Gage's hand against plain skin which, while it felt good, caught a bit and hurt slightly. Butters felt something tighten in his groin, stroked and pulled by the hand on his member. "Gage…" he whined when the hand left him. "P-please…"

Gage's own cock was drooling, especially by Butters' begging him to touch him again. The boy was so close to orgasm, he could see that. "If I do it will end too soon." He kissed Butters again, accidentally brushing a nipple. He wasn't surprised to see Butters cry out and his hips jerk, his cock weeping precum. Jesus, this boy was sensitive as hell. "I want you to do to me what Cartman does to Kyle every night." He whispered, and saw something click. Ah, there it was. Butters understood. And he couldn't wait for him to do more than understand.


	16. Keep Your Hand on the Button

Good god, hopefully I can finish this thing without going crazy. Not only did I have a death in the family, I've been bouncing around apartments like crazy and I lost my fiancé. So, enough of my marital issues, let's get to the part you've all been waiting for.

Rig

"Fuck!" Gage gritted his teeth, feeling his entrance clamp down.

"S-sorry! I don't know what I'm doing…I ain't done…" Butters trailed off, sitting back on his heels, chewing the inside of his mouth to pieces. He probably shouldn't have just shoved the first finger in like that, but he thought well…in proportion to what that part of the body dealt with on a regular basis it would just…go in. He waited to be yelled at, flinching slightly when Gage put his hand on his cheek.

"Just go slow. Okay? Slowly. Ask it to open up for you, don't demand it. It's so much more difficult when I can't show you." Gage muttered. It was frustrating trying to explain preparation to someone who just wasn't used to visualizing the mechanics of sex. At least Gage had pornography to guide him, Butters had only seen the tape the Marsh's had left at his house. Needless to say, that was about as romantic as Butters' first experience. Gage took Butters' wrist and guided it between his legs again, taking one of the slimy fingers Butters had rudely shoved inside of him. He rubbed it across his entrance. "Like that…just slowly, with the pads of your fingers." He said softly, sitting up and kissing his lover. Butters was looking enraptured by the lesson.

"Then slowly…just the tip…" Gage pushed it in, felt his muscles part to let the index finger nudge inside of him. Gage released Butters' wrist and laid on his back, closing his eyes. "Ok, now the rest of it. Slowly…! Slowly." He growled when he felt Butters' muscles tense, as if about to just shove his finger in again. Not surprisingly, Butters took directions well. He inched his finger in and stood stock still.

"Uh…next?" he asked, looking up at Gage. The pale boy had to hold back laughter.

"Just that one for now…now move it in and out…mm…" he closed his eyes, feeling the mirth in his chest die down when Butters began innocently fingering him. Slow, pulsing warmth in his loins began to spread out to his thighs, encouraging him to keep his legs spread. "Now the second one…slowly beside the first…" It was getting harder to give Butters directions. He felt the boy curl his fingers inside of him…and strike something. He cried out and arched his back, shocking Butters who nearly yanked his fingers out. "Yes! God what did you hit?" Gage demanded, sitting up. Butters looked terrified he'd hurt his lover, aquamarine eyes as wide as saucers. "Find it again Butters, God that felt good!"

"I…I didn't hurt you or nothing?" Butters asked, unsure. "I just…I hit this." He moved his hand again and innocently stroked his two fingerpads across a slightly harder lump nestled in Gage's silky wet insides. He expected Gage's reaction this time, which was a loud moan and emphatic pushing against his hand. Well, he must have been doing something right if Gage was wanting more of it. He stroked the spot over and over, trying not to lose it when Gage squirmed. His brows were furrowed, he was focused on his task. Gage was gripping the bed for dear life as wave after wave of electric shocks struck his cock. "Ah! Fuck!" he snarled, turning his head to the side to bite the pillow. "Butters…fuck…put yourself in me…put it in…" he demanded, his hips rocking back against Butters' fingers. That little magic button was driving him wild, and with Butters pushing it like a kid with a new remote control he knew he wouldn't last long.

He felt Butters withdraw and air rush into his stretched, quivering passage. Butters loomed over him, looking nervous, scared, and excited. He thrust blindly, nudging his cock against the underside of Gage's thighs. Gage felt impatient, he wanted that blunt tool up against that spot Butters had been stroking. He forced himself to calm down and grasped Butters, aligning the head correctly. "Now push." He whispered. Butters pushed his hips forward slowly, met with resistance, and sank in. Gage flopped back onto the bed, holding onto the sheets. His breathing involuntarily picked up as Butters guided himself the rest of the way in.

A quick glance upward at the open-mouthed, panting face of his lover told him they were both experiencing something amazing. "Move your hips…back and forth…" Gage urged him, raising shaking thighs to wrap around his lover's thin hips. Butters leaned down to kiss him, his skinny back arching and straightening. Gage felt the warm glow in his loins fan into a flame. "Harder..! Fuck me harder…" he encouraged, his eyes shut. Butters panted and whimpered above him. "I can't…it's too sensitive…" the blonde whimpered. Gage felt tremors between his thighs. Butters was shaking as much as he was.

"Please…if you don't move I'm going to go crazy.." Gage whispered, finding one of Butters' hands blindly and holding it tightly. Butters kept his slow pace for a moment, unintentionally dragging out the delicious torture, then began to move. Butters gave in and his hips bucked, moving more by instinct now. Gage moaned happily as his flame was stoked, rising higher in his belly. "Harder…move your hips down.." he whimpered. There. Butters shifted and struck that spot, sending lightning up his cock.

"Yes! Again!" Gage commanded, his eyes flying open and his arms wrapping around Butters' neck. Butters looked startled by the reaction but leaned down and nuzzled his face into Gage's shoulders. He thrust again and again into dark, tight warmth. Gage's body heat alone was enough to draw mewling cries from his throat, his skinny fingers finding Gage's scalp and winding into the dark curls. "Ah…ah…" he whined with every thrust, every time skin met skin. He dug his feet against the bed and used it to thrust faster into Gage. The other boy looked like he was in heaven, crying out with every slight movement.

Faster, harder into those soft insides Butters went. He was shocked to find himself pounding wildly into Gage. The goth held onto him and whimpered his name, his much stronger body trapping Butters so he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. His hip muscles tightened and focused all of his blood to his groin. Butters felt something rising in his loins and cried out, arching his back and screaming against Gage's shoulder.

Gage cried out, his voice matching Butters for pitch. Warmth spurted in between their bodies, Butters gleefully shooting into his depths. They collapsed in a mess of limbs and exhausted muscles, Butters holding onto him like a lifeline. "It's ok…" Gage panted, running sweaty fingers through his lovers' straw-like hair. "It's ok…that felt so good…"

Butters was unable to speak. He panted in the dark, oxygen less space between Gage's shoulder and the bed. He raised his head after a few precious minutes of recovery, looking down at Gage. He was surprised to see the other boy chuckling at him. "You look so surprised." Gage said, stroking his cheek with a strong, musky hand.

"…What do I do?" Butters whispered in panic.

Gage frowned slightly, confused at the question, but his lower half answered it for both of them. Butters slid loosely out of him, releasing a small stream of semen and lubrication with it. "Ah, shit…" Gage muttered, scowling at the small mess in his bed.

"It is?" He'd never seen Butters get away from him that fast. "I'm sorry!" Butters bolted into the bathroom before Gage could explain his poor choice of obscenities. When his ruffled lover emerged he got a wad of toilet paper waved in his face before he could speak. "There…I'm sorry…I'll wash your sheets…" Butters trailed off, his cheeks redder than Kyle's hair. Gage smirked and took the paper, cleaning himself up.

"It's not dirty, it's just you and lube." Gage pointed out, standing up shakily. He felt his hips give for a moment, then hold their ground. He felt so loose after being assaulted like that. But it was a buzz, a warm glow in his hips and loins that pulsed every time he walked. He kissed Butters. "You did beautifully." He said, smiling.

"So we have some thorazine if you really want him to be throwing up. It makes a sort of chemical lobotomy so he can't really feel anything. Though if you want him sniveling and crying at your feet it's the wrong drug. Let's move on to chloroform, shall we? Easily applied, but its very simple to overdose and kill him too quickly. Just a rag over the nose, two seconds and he's down for the count. The problem is getting close to him with that rag without dosing yourself. Oh, and there's always bacteria. We could have him throwing up his own guts by next week or going into a psychotropic madness. But those are so unsophisticated and I'd really like to see him suffer." Cartman said gleefully, clapping his hands together as he perused the various jars, bottles, pills, liquids, and syringes in his basement laboratory. "I also have some Zyclon-B if you want some truly poetic justice. Your father doesn't have any Jew blood in him does he?" Cartman paused when he noticed Butters wasn't following behind him.

"Butters? Come on, we have three hundred types of drug to get through and I want to make my customer happy." Cartman said impatiently, walking back to where Butters stood staring at the cabinets. He grabbed the skinny boy's wrist and yanked him along the wall, explaining to him what each drug would do when applied in varying amounts to a person.

Gage and Kyle leaned against the far wall, Kyle shaking his head every few minutes.

"He's really enjoying the idea of killing Mr. Stotch isn't he?" Gage asked, fiddling with a cigarette case and lighter. Cartman had irritably forbid him from smoking down in his basement. There were too many incendiaries around, and after seeing the drums of petrol and gasoline Gage had agreed to stop for a few hours. Kyle sighed heavily.

"Mr. Stotch used to abuse Cartman sexually." He explained softly. "I think he's been waiting a very long time for this."

"Very nice choice, Butters. That's a cocktail of my own mix. It will cause death within twelve hours or less…perfect time for torture. Will paralyze him, but he'll be able to feel everything you do. Should make him unconscious for an hour or so if you do this first." Cartman grinned when Butters timidly pointed at a jar. He handed the quart mason jar to Butters and placed a capped syringe on top of it. "Remember, use gloves and don't mention my fucking name, or I'll gut you and use your insides for tubing." Cartman growled, his face centimeters from Butters'.

"Let's get this over with before we all lose our nerves." Gage growled sullenly from the background, feeling protective.

"All in due time, oh nigger-haired one. All in due time."


	17. The End of Innocence

Sorry guys, I know I haven't updated this in forever. The drama in my life reached a crescendo and now it's ebbed. I have a lot more time on my hands to devote to this and my Back to the Future fic. So here I give you the final chapters of Grounded by Fear.

"I can't do this. I can't do this. I…I can't." Butters clasped the mason jar close to his body, the rubber gloves on his hands feeling far too big. He was shaking in his worn shoes, his hoodie up and a mask to protect his lungs from the fumes Cartman had warned them about. Gage shivered in the cold Colorado night, a cigarette clenched in his teeth. "Don't lose your nerve, Butters…remember what he did to you. It's unspeakable." Gage growled.

"He's my papa…" Butters trailed off, nearly losing the jar in his fingers. It felt far too slippery, even with the rubber gloves. "I can't kill him. I'll be a murderer. I'll go to jail." He felt the cold slicing into his skin even though he had a hoodie on. His thin body was quaking, his aqua eyes staring at the back door to his own home. The door he'd been kicked out of so many times. The stairs he'd cracked his head on when his father had hurled him out of the house. The yard where he'd 'played' for hours alone. Just in his imaginary world, no friends. No father throwing a ball for him to catch, not even a pet to play with. He shivered and looked back at the fence that they'd leapt over. Should they just leap back over it and run? Throw the jar somewhere?

Something inside of him steeled.

No. He didn't deserve that. He'd never deserved any of it. He'd always obeyed his parents and gotten good grades. He'd never been cruel to anyone, he'd never cheated or stolen from his parents. His father had done something unspeakable to him. Left him shivering in a pool of blood to rot, and done nothing to find out where he was. Normal parents would have the police searching for a lost child, would have done everything, crying and screaming to find him. Those were the type of parents he wanted. Not someone who would blame him for everything or smash his head into picture frames. Butters scowled at the door angrily. No more would he be shoved out into the snow, or forced to 'play' for hours on end without anyone to play with. Today his father's tyranny would end, and he would pay for his crimes. He would be with Gage and he could be happy.

He took a deep breath and put the jar under his arm, feeling the contents shift. He shivered slightly. He'd seen what Cartman could do. He'd seen the police reports of rival drug dealers found dead in very, very off ways. Butters almost jumped when he felt slender fingers on his back. "You're alright. I've got your back." Gage whispered, stubbing out the cigarette next to Butter's fingers on the door. "Cartman's going to meet us in the park after this is over. Make sure things go accordingly. Here." He took Butter's hand off the door and pressed a gas mask to it. "To make sure you don't get sick." He turned Butter's head toward his own and pressed his lips to his lover's. He smirked at the smear of black lipstick left on the pink, flushed lips. He wiped it away with his thumb and pulled the mask over Butter's face. "Good luck."

Butters nodded and opened the door, sliding in and shutting it behind him. No sound. No shouting. His parents would be upstairs sleeping if they didn't have anything to do. He swallowed and crept through the living room. He froze when he saw the thick brown stains splattered all over the couch and the carpet. Blood, his blood. His stomach lurched as he remembered laying over the back of the couch, his face pressed against the wall as his father violated him. Butters gagged behind the mask and gripped the mason jar tighter. "I can do this….I…I c-can do this." He whispered frantically to himself. "I can do this."

His feet ascended the stairs, avoiding the spots that creaked. Spots he knew all too well would alert his father's ever-listening ears.

"I can do this."

Down the hallway that seemed so hostile now, with pictures hung on the wall and fresh flowers on a hallway table. A cheery little bowl of sweets that seemed just as sinister as a stranger with a lollipop in the park. Butters passed his room, his breathing seeming so loud in the mask. Like a judge and jury breathing down his neck. Making sweat break out on his skin.

"I can do this."

Butters found his parent's door, his heartrate tripling and his hand on the knob.

"I can do this."

Turning the knob, pulling the thick pin back. The door swinging back on silent hinges. The maw of the bedroom gaping open. The sin of what he was about to do swallowing him whole with not but his feet in the room. He risked letting the door swing back behind him, the pin catching on the doorframe and keeping a blade of light in the room. Cartman said the poison would work very quickly once the gasses in the jar were released into the air. Once into the lungs the poison would wind quickly into the blood. Once it was in the blood, the person would die of respiratory arrest. It was unlikely they'd ever wake once the bacteria paralyzed muscles. But just in case, Cartman had given him two very high doses of opiates to make sure they stayed there. Overdoses would make the victim immoveable.

Butters knelt, settling the jar on the floor with the innocent tink of glass. It sounded like a safe on his soul. He dug into his pockets, feeling the syringes clink against his fingers. He pulled out the first one and pulled the plastic cap off. His feet covered the distance to the bed faster than he thought possible. Drew back the duvet and slid the needle with shaking hands into his father's skin. Pushed down on the plunger. Withdrew the needle with a single drop of black blood forming in the darkness. The first needle Butters set on his father's nightstand and withdrew the second. His mother. He still loved her, but she'd stood by and let him get hurt. Watched even, and hadn't shed a tear. She was just as guilty, preying on his feelings and making him think he was worthless. She was the reason he thought a single piece of bread was theft, the reason his stomach screamed at him every day while she ate at the table. She'd never cooked him so much as ramen even when he passed out from lack of food.

He pressed the needle with a gentler hand into his mother's neck. Down went the plunger with a soft plume of blood into the liquid. The needle pulled out, and blood ran in a small rivulet down his mother's neck. Butters swallowed, his hand going to wipe his forehead before hitting the hard plastic of the mask. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to rip the mask off and hurl it through the darkness, and run back into his lover's arms. But he couldn't. He instead set the second syringe down on his mother's side. Walked to the windows and locked them. Sealed the door to the bathroom. Knelt next to the mason jar, and opened it. The smell struck him first. Heavy with rot and disease, and even the air filter couldn't block out all of it. He lifted the jar and dumped the wet, fetid mass onto the bed. Saw stains spread across his mother and father's clothed legs. He gagged at the smell and dropped the jar to the floor, his shaking hands unable to hold it.

Through the blade of light let in by the half-closed door he saw his mother's eyes open and fill with disgust, then panic. She whimpered loudly in her throat, and Butters saw one of her limbs shiver. Cartman had been right. She couldn't move. A snarl made his eyes move to his father. He inhaled, gagged, and vomit bubbled up in his mouth. It was quickly sucked back into his lungs when he tried to breathe, and Mr. Stotch started gurgling. His body jerked, desperately fighting the opiates for air. Butters felt his eyes fill with tears when his mother looked at him. Then she jerked and shivered, gagging and fighting the urge to throw up. Her body submitted to the same fate as her suffocating husband, and Butters backed toward the door.

He backed out of the room and shut the door behind him, then ran as fast as his malnourished legs could carry him. He burst out of the front door to an empty street, the night air making the sweat along his back turn icy. Butters ripped off the rubber gloves and then the mask, hurling them into the family trash can set out onto the sidewalk. Then he ran. The sweaty mask around his face turning to ice, he ran down the road.

Cartman folded his thick arms across his chest, rolling his eyes. "He chickened out. The bitch chickened out. Look, it's nearly two in the morning. The Jew won't be asleep for too much longer. I fucked him hard but he still wakes up at the slightest noise." He grumbled. Gage scowled from a picnic table at Cartman, but said nothing. The park was still and quiet, the dank Colorado air pressing down on their shoulders. Gage pulled a cigarette out of a crushed package and lit it, sighing blue smoke into the night air. Cartman looked over at him and sneered slightly. "You're not at all concerned that your bitch boy has a yellow streak a mile wide?" he asked. "He runs from dodgeball for Christ's sake."

"He's going to be fine." Gage said dismissively, hiding the worry in his own face. What if Butters' father had heard him? Was now killing him or worse? He puffed on the cigarette, adrenaline leaking into his bloodstream. "I'm going to check on him." He rose from the table and made to move past Cartman. The heavyset boy snatched his arm in an iron grip.

"If you set foot in that house after he smashes that jar you're risking death yourself. Sit the fuck down." He snapped. Gage tore his pale arm free of Cartman's meaty fingers and sat down on the park table. "Besides I can't risk the Jew seeing you and sniffing me out. He'd bitch at me endlessly."

Gage sighed and stubbed out his cigarette. He was going to say something nasty to Cartman, but he never got the chance. The quick thuds of footsteps and the flash of a thin body were all his senses detected before arms were flung around his neck. Squeezing like small pythons around his neck. Gage squeezed Butters back, kissing the boy's cold sweat away and pressing the thin body to his own. "You're ok…" he whispered. "You're ok." He kissed Butters' neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of it.

"Did you do it or did you pussy out? Where the fuck's the mask? That cost me to smuggle it out of the chemistry lab!" Cartman snarled at Butters. The small boy didn't respond. He choked out a loud sob and his body started shaking all over again. Gage patted his back, pulling Butters up onto the table with him. The boy needed closeness, he needed to be held and kissed until his nightmares fled him. God only knew what had happened between him and his parents that night, but for someone whose heart was soft as butter, it could only have been bad. "I'm sorry baby…" Gage whispered to him.

"Cut the Hallmark special." Cartman snapped. "Where the hell's the mask?"

Gage looked up from cuddling his boyfriend and gave Cartman such a withering look even the heavy-set boy seemed a bit threatened.

"Cartman…just shut the fuck up."


	18. Moving A Fortune

Well here it is, the finale of Grounded by Fear. Have fun reading guys! I loved writing this thing, I'm glad I got to come back to it!

"Here, drink this. You'll feel better." Gage slid a warm cup of milk along the table. The glass slid across the wood and Butters grasped it, bringing it with a shaking hand to his lips. He looked sullen, his eyes open wide and staring at his lover. Gage put his hand on Butter's arm.

"I killed them. I killed them…I killedthemIkilledthemIkill-" Gage put his hand over Butter's mouth.

"Shh." He said softly. "You did what you had to." Gage lifted his hand to stroke his lover's cheek, smiling gently at him. "You're free. That tyrant will never ever hurt you again. Look at you. The bruises are gone. You've healed down there…you're beautiful. You're even gaining weight. I can't see your hip bones again at any case." he stood and patted Butter's shoulder. "I love you. Just drink the milk. I'm going to make you a…CARTMAN!"

The pudgy boy turned around, settling his back to the counter. He chewed the bit of sandwhich in his mouth, shrugging. "Hey, last pieces of bread and no one calls em." He mumbled around the mouthful of food. Gage snatched the sandwhich.

"This is my house, Cartman. I let you sleep over because you said you had news about the Stotches. Kyle's back at the house, go have him make you breakfast." Gage snarled. Cartman frowned at the man and opened the fridge, pawing about in it. Gage sighed and went to the counter, cutting off the bitten part of the sandwhich and putting it on a plate. "Butters, cut the crap. You're a man now dammit. You killed someone. Two people." Cartman said from deep inside the fridge.

"Cartman!" Gage snapped, setting down the sandwhich and kissing the top of Butters' head. He straightened and lit a cigarette. "Leave him alone! He just needs to forget about what happened." He said sharply, watching Butters eat shakily. He sat down in his chair, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. Butters was eating slowly, but his eyes still seemed distant. "It's been four weeks! Kid's gotta buck up a bit!" Cartman protested. The chubby man took out a tin and sniffed it, smiling at his find. "Mmm…lasagna." He said, taking off the tinfoil protecting his prize. He shuffled around the kitchen in search of a fork, kicking the fridge door shut.

Gage smoked silently, watching Butters finish the sandwich and milk like he was on autopilot. Maybe their plan had proved too psychologically damaging for the kid. He chewed on the end of the cigarette, frowning at him. "Baby?" he asked softly, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Can I be excused?" Butters asked in a voice so small Gage could barely hear him. Gage was surprised at the request. "Yeah…sure babe." He said, watching Butters push back from the table and wander up the stairs to their room.

"Hey, he ain't got that post…mmmf….traumathic streth thing?" Cartman said around a wad of masticated pasta and cheese. He swallowed audibly. "I thought he'd be made of stronger stuff." He stabbed his fork back into the leftovers with glee.

"Listen just tell me what you came here to tell me." Gage said, sighing and looking at the staircase. "My dad's going to wake up soon, and he's just on the couch. He could hear something."

"Oh, right." Cartman swallowed. "Yeah, you should be in the clear on the whole murder thing. No one saw anyone enter or leave, and Butters wore the mask and gloves like I asked. You're lucky I fished that mask out of the trash or you would have had the FBI on your asses. They can detect shit like that." He gestured at Gage with the fork. "So yeah, you're clear. Butters can live with you, he's currently labeled as a missing person, possibly dead. It would be better if he were dead you know, just to avoid having to be questioned and all that nonsense." He ploughed back into the lasagna with gusto.

Gage nodded and stubbed out the cigarette on Butter's plate. "Good. I was worried about that when I saw all those police at the house…especially that forensics team. The funeral was just…rocky." He muttered, glancing at the stairs again.

"Meh, they're dead. Bastards. Oh, I took the liberty of taking something from their house. Seems Mr. Stotch was hiding some shit in his basement. The Jew wasn't with me so I had to sniff out the cash the hard way." Cartman set the lasagna on the counter and picked up a bag from under the table, unzipping it. He dumped several stacks of cash on the table. "Our boy was fond of fifties. They're all neat, stacked in there. Looks like he only chose fresh bills, the stingy bastard."

Gage stared.

"I took my cut for the poisons, the cover up….but there's a good seventy thousand here. This is only a bit of it. I got bags back at the house when you're ready for em. I couldn't get the Jew to part from his Jew pile. He's protecting it like a dragon." Cartman chuckled. "What, wipe the look off your damn face. This is your reward, the both of you. Who says murder doesn't pay." He picked up a stack of fifties and waggled them in front of Gage's face. Gage snatched the money.

"What the hell are you thinking waving this around in our house?" Gage demanded, stuffing the money back into the bag. "Look, thanks for bringing this over…I had no idea, and I'm sure Butters will be happy WHEN he recovers." He said, sighing and plunking the bag on the chair next to him. "Thanks Cartman. This is enough to give him a good life. Get us started on our lives together. But he's too shaken up right now. Later on I'll show him."

Cartman nodded and shrugged, going back to the lasagna and finishing it up in a few giant gulps. He tossed the tin in the trash and the fork in the sink. "I'll catch you later. I have a Jew to wake up. " he said, heading for the front door.

Gage looked down at the bag next to him and rose, slinging the backpack over his shoulder. He sighed and trudged upstairs, dropping the bag inside the door to his room. He looked at his lover crumpled up on the bed. "Butters?" he asked quietly, approaching the bed. He leaned over him and kissed his cheek, sitting on the bedside. "Look, I know it was hard on you. But you're free now. Everything's fine. Cartman says the police don't know who it was. They're giving up soon." He kissed Butters' shoulder. Butters looked back at Gage, swallowing.

"…You're sure it was the right thing? That they won't hurt me anymore?" Butters asked, turning on his side to face Gage. Gage nodded, smiling.

"Never again." He said, kissing Butters' soft lips. "And look. Look what Cartman brought us." He got up and grabbed the bag, dropping it on the bed. "Open it. There's your college money right there. We could get an apartment together, live together. Find jobs. It's all there." Gage said as Butters opened the bag.

"Gage…how many bags of this are there?" he asked, looking up.

"Cartman said too many to bring here. Your dad was hiding money from you and your mom this whole time." Gage said, seeing his lover smile for the first time in weeks. "We can escape this. All of it. This miserable town. Maybe go to Denver and find some good jobs, go to the University of Colorado together." He clasped Butters' hands. "Would you come with me? Run away with me?"

Butters smiled and threw his arms around Gage's neck, kissing him deeply. "I'll go anywhere with you." He said, tucking his head against Gage's chest. Guilt was melting away from him. He didn't have to live off the fortunes of others now. Gage and he could find their own way, their own destinies. Like Cartman and Kyle. They could live out their lives together. "So this is what love is like." Butters whispered after a long, silent embrace.

"Get used to it, you've got to make up for lost time." Gage said, kissing the top of Butters' head. He lifted his chin when he heard something hit the window. He would have ignored it, but the tapping came again. He frowned and kissed Butters. "Hold on baby." He rose and opened the window, nearly catching a small stone in the face.

"Get your asses down here! I'm not going to haul a fucking fortune out of my house without a few grunts! You think it's safe leaving this amount of cash with a Jew?" Cartman shouted at them from the street. Gage smirked and looked back at Butters.

"You ready to move your inheritance?" he asked.

Butters smiled. "If you're ready." He said.


End file.
